II..  I U 

LIBRARY  OF  THE  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 

* 

n 

PRINCETON,  N.  J. 


Presented  by  POr.  'Cr\or\'ro , 


Di 


ivision.JD.S..1 0  7 


Section. 9..^ 


9 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2019  with  funding  from 
Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


https://archive.org/details/sinaizionOObaus 


i 


ind  ttiii 


OR, 


A  PILGRIMAGE  THROUGH 


THE  WILDERNESS 


THE  LAND  OF  PEOMISE. 


BENJAMIN 


Aausman,  d.  d. 


SEVENTH  EDITION. 
WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS 


PHILADELPHIA: 

KEFOKMED  CHUliCil  PUBLICATION  BOARD, 


907  Arch  Street. 


Entered,  according  -to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1861,  by 
LINDSAY  &  BLAKISTON, 

in  the  Clerk’s  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the 

Eastern  District  of  Pennsylvania. 


SXERKOTTPED  BT  J.  FAQAN, 


PRINTED  BY  JAS.  B.  RODGERS  CO. 


PREFACE. 


In  the  winter  and  spring  of  1857  I  made  a  tour  to 
Egypt;  Arabia;  Palestine;  and  Syria;  which  furnished 
the  occasion  for  the  preparation  of  this  book.  It  has 
struggled  long  to  reach  the  open  sea  of  the  reading 
publiC;  and  but  for  the  importunity  of  some  whose 
opinion  is  entitled  to  respect;  it  would  have  been  left  to 
slumber  in  my  Journal  and  manuscript.  It  looks  like  a 
work  of  supererogation;  if  not  presumption;  to  obtrude 
another  volume  of  Eastern  Travels  on  the  publiC;  after 
the  many  able  works  which  have  of  late  years  been 
written  on  this  subject.  It  must  be  admitted;  however; 
that  every  traveller;  if  he  have  any  mind  of  his  own; 
will  observe  things  and  places  from  his  own  point  of 
vieW;  and  receive  impressions  peculiar  to  himself.  For 
this  reason  every  new  work  gives  new  aspects;  all 
furnishing  but  so  many  strokes  of  the  descriptive  pencil 
to  complete  the  picture.  In  addition  to  this  it  is  natural 
to  expect  that  a  work  of  this  kind  will  find  access  to  a 
larger  number  of  readers  in  the  German  Eeformed 

Church;  of  which  the  author  is  a  member;  than  of  those 

(iii) 


IV 


PREFACE. 


prepared  by  writers  of  other  denominations,  though  per¬ 
haps  superior  to  this.  For  this  reason  this  unpretend¬ 
ing  volume  may  likewise  have  an  humble  mission  to 
perform. 

No  country  on  the  face  of  the  globe  ought  to  possess 
such  a  charming  interest  to  the  Christian  as  that  which 
the  world’s  Eedeemer  selected  for  the  field  of  His  labors 
while  in  the  flesh.  Although  many  excellent  works 
have  of  late  years  been  written  on  the  Lands  of  the 
Bible,  comparatively  little  is  known  of  them  by  a  large 
portion  of  professing  Christians.  Since  my  return  from 
the  East,  I  have  met  many  persons  from  almost  all  re¬ 
ligious  denominations  —  persons  often  otherwise  intelli¬ 
gent — who  either  thought  that  the  Land  of  Promise  and 
Jerusalem  were  to  be  regarded  in  a  mere  figurative  and 
spiritual  sense,  or  that  their  places  could  no  longer  be 
known  and  visited.  To  many  the  sacred  localities  of 
the  Scriptures  possess  simply  a  fabulous  meaning,  not 
even  as  real  and  tangible  as  the  habitations  and  resorts 
of  the  gods  in  heathen  mythology.  Where  is  there  a 
school  geography  that  pays  half  as  much  attention  to 
the  only  little  country  on  earth,  which  is  sacred  to  the 
Christian,  as  to  others  whose  only  merit  is  their  com¬ 
mercial  influence  or  prominence  in  war  ?  Scholars  are 
taught  the  name  and  history  of  every  river,  province, 
and  capital  of  other  lands,  whilst  they  scarcely  know 
the  difference  between  Jerusalem  and  Jericho,  between 
the  Nile  and  the  Jordan,  between  the  Sea  of  Galilee  and 


PREFACE. 


V 


the  Mediterranean.  Even  in  Sunaay  Schools,  sacred 
geography  receives  by  far  too  little  attention. 

The  result  of  all  this  is  the  prevalence  of  a  mythical 
theory,  practically  little  better  than  that  of  Strauss, 
which  ascribes  a  fabulous  character  to  the  local  allusions 
of  the  Bible.  In  the  estimation  of  some  the  Eeligioh 
of  the  Cross  would  seem  more  divine  and  miraculous,  if 
Egypt  had  no  river,  Arabia  no  Bed  Sea,  Sinai  no  moun¬ 
tains,  and  Palestine  no  Jerusalem  or  Jordan.  It  is  just 
the  reverse.  To  see  or  read  about  Bethlehem,  and 
Uazareth,  Jerusalem,  and  Cethsemane,  enables  you  better 
to  realize  that  the  Saviour  became  human,  and  that  His 
sacred  feet  trod  the  earth,  and  His  eyes  looked  upon 
objects,  as  ours  tread  and  look.  In  this  respect  travel¬ 
ling  in  Palestine  differs  from  that  in  other  countries. 
Here  a  visit  to  places  hallowed  by  their  connection  with 
sacred  persons  and  events,  inspires  you  with  certain 
devout  emotions,  which  interweave  themselves  with 
your  spiritual  being.  In  Bible  lands  the  traveller’s  im¬ 
pressions  affect  the  heart  as  well  as  the  mind.  Travel¬ 
ling  here  becomes  an  experience,  which  ever  afterwards 
links  your  meditations  on  the  Bible  and  its  persons, 
with  certain  sacred  places.  When  you  think  of  the 
different  periods  in  our  Saviour’s  life,  they  will  at  once 
carry  your  mind  to  Bethlehem,  Nazareth,  Capernaum, 
or  Jerusalem,  and  your  knowledge  of  these  places  will 
enable  you  more  vividly  to  understand  and  enjoy  certain 
parts  of  the  sacred  narrative. 

1* 


VI 


PREFACE. 


This  work  makes  no  pretensions  to  critical  research. 
It  aims  to  instruct  by  combining  the  devotional  with 
the  descriptive  element.  It  says  many  things  which  to 
some  readers  may  seem  trite  and  stale,  from  having  read 
them  in  other  works.  I  crave  the  forbearing  indulgence 
of  such,  while  I  attempt  to  instruct  the  many  who  have 
never  read  a  work  on  the  East  before.  The  book  pro¬ 
fesses  to  explain  and  illustrate  the  allusions  of  the  Scrip¬ 
tures  to  customs  and  places,  showing  how  many  of  the 
former  continue  in  vogue  to  the  present,  and  how  many 
of  the  latter  can  still  be  identified ;  how  they  correspond 

and  how  they  differ  from  their  ancient  appearances.  It 

0 

aims  to  show  how  prophecy  has  passed  into  history,  and 
to  what  extent;  what  character  Abraham,  Isaac,  and 
Jacob,  Ishmael,  Esau,  and  Amalek  possessed  then,  and 
what  now.  The  reader  will  be  surprised  to  find — though 
strange  that  he  should  —  in  how  many  respects  the 
mountains  and  valleys,  fountains  and  rivers,  villages 
and  cities,  places  and  people,  costumes  and  customs,  are 
just  as  the  Bible  represents  them  to  have  been  from  two 
to  four  thousand  years  ago. 

As  footnotes  and  special  references  encumber  the 
reader,  I  will  here  acknowledge  my  indebtedness  to  the 
following  works :  Biblical  Researches  in  Palestine,  and 
the  Adjacent  Regions,  by  Edward  Eobinson,  D.  D. 
LL.  D. ;  Narrative  of  the  United  States  Expedition  to 
the  River  Jordan  and  the  Dead  Sea,  by  W.  F.  Lynch, 
U.  S.  N. ;  The  Land  and  the  Book,  by  W.  M.  Thomson, 


PREFACE. 


VH 

D.  D. ;  Sinai  and  Palestine,  by  Arthur  Penrhyn  Stan¬ 
ley,  M.  A. ;  An  Account  of  the  Manners  and  Customs 
of  the  Modern  Egyptians,  by  Edward  Wdliam  Lane ; 
A  Popular  Account  of  the  Ancient  Egyptians,  by  Sir 
J.  Gardner  Wilkinson,  D. 0. L.,  F. E. S.,  etc.;  Ancient 
Monasteries  of  the  East,  by  the  Hon.  Eobert  Curzon, 
Jun. ;  Travels  in  the  Holy  Land,  Egypt,  etc,,  by  Wil¬ 
liam  Eae  Wilson,  LL.  L.,  F.  S.A. ;  Five  years  in  Da~ 
7nascus,  by  Eev.  J.  L.  Porter,  A.  M.,  F.E.  S.L. ;  The 
Desert  of  Sinai,  by  Horatius  Bonar,  D.  D. ;  Peise  in 
das  Gelohte  Land,  von  E.  W.  Schultz ;  Peise  in  das 
Morgenland,  von  Dr.  Gotthilf  Heinrich  von  Schubert ; 
Sinai  und  Golgotha,  von  Friederich  Adolph  Strauss; 
Egypt,  Ethiopia,  and  Sinai,  by  Dr.  Eichard  Lepsius. 

The  illustrations  are  designed  to  give  the  reader  a 
clearer  idea  of  some  of  the  places  spoken  of  in  this 
book.  The  valley  of  Er-Pahah,  as  seen  from  the  con¬ 
vent  of  Sinai,  gives  a  view  of  the  valley  in  which  the 
Hebrews  were  encamped  during  the  giving  of  the  Law. 
Sinai  is  the  mountain  sloping  up  to  the  left  of  the  ruins 
and  the  cypress  trees;  its  top  is  not  included  in  the 
cut.  Ancient  Jerusalem  has  the  whole  of  Mount  Zion 
covered  with  buildings,  down  to  its  base  in  the  valleys 
of  Jehoshaphat  and  Hinnom.  Modern  Jerusalem  has 
no  buildings  on  the  southern  slope  of  it,  showing  the 
changes  which  the  city  has  undergone  in  this  respect. 
Both  views  are  taken  from  the  south-east,  from  which  the 
reader  has  a  view  of  Gethsemane  on  the  right  of  the  city. 
Immediately  at  the  base  of  the  hill,  is  the  Kedron.  The 


Vlll 


PREFACE. 


large  building  near  tbe  edge  of  tbis  bill  above  tbe  Kedron, 
inside  of  tbe  wall,  is  tbe  temple  of  Solomon  in  tbe  old 
city,  and  tbe  mosque  of  Omar  at  tbe  same  place  in  tbe 
new.  Both  these  cuts  include  a  view  of  tbe  base  of 
Olivet,  tbe  valleys  of  Kedron,  Jebosbapbat,  and  part  of 
tbe  valley  of  Hinnom,  as  well  as  tbe  whole  of  Jerusalem. 
Tbe  Garden  of  Gethsemane  is  seen  from  a  short  distance 
north  of  it,  near  tbe  Kedron,  and  gives  a  true  sketch 
of  tbe  old  gnarly  obve  trees  on  tbis  sacred  spot. 

Chambersburg,  Pa. 

December  1860. 


40  ♦ 


PREFACE  TO  THE  FIFTH  EDITION. 


Books,  like  men.  are  subject  to  various  tbrtimes.  Some  are 
backed  to  pieces  by  Keartless  critics ;  others  furnish  a  mine  in  which 
the  mw  erudite  truth-seekers  quarry  the  precious  metal  and  separate 
it  iTom  dross  for  their  own  and  others’  use  and  enjoyment.  Others, 
nzain.  tind  a  place  at  the  fireside,  where  parents  and  children  greet 
them  as  welcome  companions  in  their  happy  home  circle.  Or,  per- 
hans.  the  book  is  allowed  to  build  its  own  hearth,  around  whose 
peaceful  retreat  increasing  groups  do  continually  gather.  It  be¬ 
comes  a  personality,  around  which  kindly  readers  laugh  and  weep, 
praise  and  pray  with  the  author.  The  critics,  with  few  exceptions, 
have  treated  me  with  a  kindly,  perhaps  too  indulgent  or  partial  a 
hand.  As  mr  miners,  my  bix)k  needled  none,  inasmuch  as  its  pre¬ 
cious  meral  lies  mostly  on  the  sitrface.  But  with  a  goodly  number 
of  fireside  readers  have  I  been  honored.  My  humble  book  has  had 
a  place  on  the  mantel,  which  I  would  rather  have  it  occupy  than 
one  on  the  centre-table,  or  in  the  libraries  of  the  learned  few.  (dfteu 
have  I  felt  like  one  who  is  allowed 

"Arouad  his  lire  an  evening  group  to  draw. 

And  tell  of  all  he  felt  and  all  he  saw.” 

One  of  the  religious  perio«iicals  of  Xew  York  contained  a  critical 
notice  of  the  murth  edition  of  this  book  from  the  pen  of  the  late 
Dr.  SroLLAiA^r.  To  me,  I  confess,  a  very  pleasing  notice,  because 
wricteu  by  such  a  good  and  learueil  man.  In  it  he  stiys: 

“When  I  am  weary  of  the  dust  of  the  street,  and  wish  to  get  away 
and  tbrgec  the  ‘storms  in  a  tea-kettle’  which  howl  around  one’s 
•airs.  I  read  a  good  book.  But  inasmuch  as  every  btxk  has  au  end, 


PEEFACE  TO  THE  FIFTH  ET)ITIO^'. 


I  do  as  little  children  do  when  they  have  something  veiA"  good  to 
eat:  I  read  the  book  sparingly,  not  too  much  at  a  time,  lest  I  get 
through  and  lose  the  pleasant  taste  so  soon.  When  the  storm  howls 
again,  and  blows  the  snow  and  sleet  against  my  chamber  window,  I 
will  faithfully  accompany  this  traveller  on  his  journey.  To  those 
of  us  who  may  not  live  till  the  winter  storms  shall  come  again,  I 
wish,  as  I  do  to  myself,  a  journey  still  more  blessed,  to  that  Canaan 
from  which  only  One  ever  came  to  bring  us  ‘glad  tidings  of  great 
joy.’  ” 

Not  long  after,  the  dear  man  made  his  last  journey  to  the  “better 
country.” 

To  all  who  in  any  wise  have  spoken  or  written  kindly  of  this 
book,  and  to  those  who  have  read  or  may  read  it  with  friendly  feel¬ 
ings,  I  tender  my  thanks.  May  He  for  whose  glory  it  was  written, 
bless  its  pages  to  all  its  readers,  and  lead  them  safely  through  their 
earthly  pilgrimage  to  the  Jerusalem  above.  For,  as  St.  Jerome 
saith:  “That  which  is  truly  commendable  is,  not  to  have  visited 
Jerusalem,  but  to  have  lived  a  godly  life.” 


B.  BAUSMAN 


Readixg,  Pa. 


CONTEXTS 


CHAPTES  I. 

?Ho»  !S'A-?Lza  TO  . . . 13 

CHAPTER  II, 

?30M  to  Alzxa^ria, . .  25 

CHAPTER  III.. 

Caibo .  37 

CHAPTER  IT. 

Tim  pYB^iJiDs — T3s  Xilb- .  54 

CHAPTER  T. 

Eaoii  EuTpt  to  tsb  Rzd  Ska . . .  82 

CHAPTER  TI. 

?aoM  THE  Rsr  5ea  to  Mgcttt  Sittai. . 101 

CHAPTER  TII. 

Foom  JHhtst  5i:5^ai  to  Eziojr-^jSEKa .  144 

;IX) 


X 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

From  Ezion-Geber  to  Petra  and  Beersheba . ..^.171 

CHAPTER  IX 

From  Beersheba  to  Jerusalem . 202 

CHAPTER  X. 

Jerusalem . 222 

CHAPTER  XI. 

Jerusalem  and  its  Surroundings .  244 

¥ 

CHAPTER  XII. 


The  Wilderness  of  Judea — Jericho — the  Jordan .  282 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  Bead  Sea  —  Bethlehem .  309 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Jerusalem  —  Bethel —  Salem .  336 

CHAPTER  XV. 

The  Well  of  Jacob — Samaria . 353 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

EsDRiELON,  OR  THE  VaLLEY  OF  JeZREEL . . . .  373 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

Nazareth  and  Mount  Carmel . . . . . 384 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


The  Home  of  Mary  and  her  Child 


408 


CONTENTS 


XI 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

A  VIEW  FROM  Tabor  —  The  Sea  of  Tiberias .  421 

CHAPTER  XX. 

The  Sea  of  Galilee  —  The  Waters  of  Merom  —  Cesarea 
Philippi . 449 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

The  Anti-Lebanon  —  Damascus  —  Baalbeck .  474 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

Ccele-Stria  —  Crossing  the  Lebanon  —  Beirout  —  Cities  of 
THE  Sea-coast .  501 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Homeware  bound .  524 


LIST 

OF 


Modern  Jerusalem . Frontispiece. 

Encamping  Scene .  Page  89 

Er-Kahah . . .  144 

Ancient  Jerusalem . 250 

Garden  of  Gethsemane .  265 

Damascus . 478 

(xii) 


A  PILGRIMAGE 


TO  THE 

LAND  OF  PROMISE. 


CHAPTER  I. 


/rora  jlnpItB  tn  BMnltn. 


On  the  6th  of  February,  when  the  sun  was  already  as  hot 
as  that  of  a  Pennsylvania  June,  we  took  our  scanty  luggage 
to  the  wharf  at  Naples,  with  a  view  of  embarking  for 
Malta.  Here  we  were  accosted  by  a  surly  official,  de¬ 
manding  a  fee,  or  else  he  would  examine  our  baggage.  We 
told  him  to  proceed,  which  he  had  sense  enough  not  to 
do,  and  left  us  with  growling  disappointment.  After 
procuring  tickets  at  the  health-office,  our  half-clad  boat¬ 
men  paddled  us  out  through  the  narrow  openings  left 
between  the  vessels  floating  in  the  bay,  to  the  French 
steamer  bound  for  Malta.  At  3  P.  M.,  the  captain  of  the 
Orontes  mounted  the  paddle-box  and  gave  the  word  to 
start.  She  floated  out  into  the  bay,  smoothly  and  gently 
as  a  gondola.  How  pleasures  brighten  as  they  take  their 
flight !  A  little  world  of  natural  beauty  spread  before 
the  vision  when  we  got  out  into  the  bay,  growing  prettier 
still  as  it  receded  into  the  distance.  The  vapor-crested 
2  (13) 


14 


THE  BAY  OF  NAPLES. 


Vesuvius  raised  its  heaving  cone  into  the  clear  sky.  Ca- 
maldoHo,  and  other  convents  capping  neighboring  moun¬ 
tains,  looked  down  upon  ITaples  with  a  Benedictine  mien. 
Baiae,  Puteoli,  Becina,  Portici,  Castellamare,  and  Sor¬ 
rento,  all  clustered  around  Naples,  like  children  pluck¬ 
ing  the  robe  of  their  mother.  The  city  spread  crescent¬ 
like  around  the  bay,  taking  it  into  a  half  embrace,  and 
sloping  up  gradually  to'wards  the  hilly  horizon.  The 
houses  turned  whiter  as  they  receded,  and  soon  resem¬ 
bled  huts  of  snow ;  the  hay  assumed  the  color  of  deepest 
blue ;  the  sweet  landscape  in  the  rear  melted  away  in 
soft  green  hues,  while  here  and  there  a  cloud-shadow 
floated  over  it.  The  Isles  of  Capri  and  Ischia  rose  out 
of  the  blue  bay  like  'sentinels  at  the  door  of  this  earthly 
Elysium.  As  day  faded  away  into  night,  the  pillar  of 
cloud  on  Vesuvius  became  a  pillar  of  Are,  when  dark¬ 
ness  and  distance  soon  hid  from  our  view  one  of  the 
most  charming  sights  the  eye  of  man  has  ever  beheld  — 
the  bay  of  Naples  and  its  environs. 

Going  southward,  we  passed  in  sight  of  Stromboli,  an 
active  volcano  on  one  of  the  Liparian  isles.  The  next 
morning  we  reached  Messina,  on  the  eastern  coast  of 
Sicily.  At  the  entrance  of  the  Strait  of  Messina,  we 
passed  the  famous  Scylla  and  Charybdis,  so  much 
dreaded  by  the  ancients.  The  former  is  a  small  rock 
projecting  into  the  sea  on  the  Italian  coast.  Adjoining 
it  is  a  small  village  to  which  it  gave  its  own  name.  The 
latter,  immediately  opposite  to  Scylla,  in  the  middle  ot 
the  Strait,  is  what  once  may  have  been  a  whirlpool,  but 
no  longer  deserves  that  name.  It  is  little  more  than  an 
easy  welling  of  the  water,  an  earnest  stirring  of  the  sur¬ 
face,  over  which  our  boat  passed  without  any  perceptible 
labor  or  peril.  Any  one  that  comes  down  to  this  rock 


MESSINA. 


15 


and  whirlpool  with  his  school-boy  notions,  cr  such  as  he 
derived  from  classical  descriptions  of  a  boiling  whirlpool, 
which  will  send  vessels  spinning  to  the  bottom,  or  dash 
them  on  the  rock,  will  find,  by  the  time  he  gets  through, 
that  there  is  more  poetry  than  peril  in  the  whole  thing. 

Our  boat  tarried  a  few  hours  at  Messina,  one  of  the 
largest  commercial  cities  of  Sicily.  Its  situation  is  very 
romantic.  It  spreads  back  from  the  sea  on  a  rising 
ground,  while  the  mountains  enclose  and  tower  high 
above  it.  The  harbor  was  full  of  vessels,  taking  cargoes 
of  figs  and  oranges,  which  grow  here  in  great  abundance. 
The  American  frigate  Constitution  was  lying  at  anchor 
off  the  city,  with  the  stars  and  stripes  proudly  fioating 
and  fiapping  from  her  mast-head.  I  never  could  feel  so 
sentimentally  patriotic  —  or  patriotically  sentimental  — 
as  to  be  flung  into  ecstacies  by  ‘‘the  stars-and-stripes” 
eloquence  for  which  our  country  is  so  famous.  But  the 
sight  of  our  national  ensign,  in  a  far-ofi*  sea,  reminded 
me  that,  even  there,  the  protecting  wing  of  the  American 
eagle  was  spread  over  me;  and  I  felt  a  sense  of  home 
contentment  and  a  touch  of  national  pride,  such  as  I  had 
never  known  or  felt  before.  At  noon,  the  band  of  the 
frigate  performed  several  national  airs,  which  the  soft 
breeze  from  the  orange  fields  wafted  over  the  placid 
waters,  sounding  like  words  of  hope  and  peace  from  the 
home-land. 

A  few  of  us  hired  a  small  boat  and  went  ashore.  We 
sallied  through  the  principal  streets,  visited  the  cathedral, 
and  found  that  the  general  appearance  of  the  city  was 
like  that  of  most  Italian  cities,  where  Art  and  filth  leave 
much  to  praise  and  blame.  Walking  along  the  wharf, 
we  passed  a  poor  Sicilian  who  had  met  with  an  accident, 
which  caused  him  to  bleed  most  profusely.  My  pity 


16 


A  NARROW  ESCAPE. 


being  excited,  I  looked  at  this  man,  while  my  friends 
went  on  board  a  merchant  vessel  from  Boston,  to  see  the 
captain.  After  losing  sight  of  them,  I  attempted  to 
follow  over  a  long  swinging  plank,  which  was  laid  from 
shore  to  ship.  When  I  reached  midway,  the  plank  com¬ 
menced  swinging,  my  feet  slipped,  knees  smote  together, 
head  reeled,  and  could  neither  advance  nor  retreat.  I 
had  often  hung  on  capering  creek-planks,  swinging  over 
the  water,  but  never  knew  what  it  was  to  prepare  one’s- 
self  for  a  plunge  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea.  As  I  looked 
down  into  the  deep  water,  in  a  fearful  plight,  a  voice 
called  to  me  in  broken  English,  from  below:  “Do  you 
wish  to  get  down,  sir  ?”  The  next  moment,  my  unknown 
deliverer  had  me  by  -the  hand  and  led  me  back,  quickly 
gave  me  a  parting  grasp,  with  a  smiling  “good-bye,”  and 
hurried  off,  scarcely  giving  me  time  to  thank  him. 
Often  since  have  I  had  grateful  thoughts  of  that  stranger, 
and  wished  to  learn  his  name.  So  our  Merciful  Father 
sends  unknown  helpers  when  we  are  in  peril,  a  messenger 
or  “  angel  of  the  Lord,”  to  do  his  fatherly  pleasure. 

Our  steamer  departed  in  the  middle  of  the  afternoon, 
and  towards  evening  we  passed  Rhegium,  on  the  coast 
of  Calabria,  at  the  south  of  Italy,  where  Paul  tarried  a 
day  on  his  way  to  Rome.  Acts  28  :  3.  In  1783,  the 
town  was  almost  entirely  destroyed  by  an  earthquake. 
Of  late  years  it  has  been  partly  rebuilt  again,  and  now 
numbers  about  17,000  inhabitants.  Dense  clouds  and 
heavy  showers  hid  Mt.  -®tna,  which  we  passed  without 
getting  even  a  glimpse  of  it.  So  too  with  Syracuse,  like¬ 
wise  a  stopping  place  of  Paul,  which  night  and  a  squall 
of  rain  concealed.  Acts  27  :  12.  The  ancient  city 
had  over  a  million  of  inhabitants,  the  modern  one  only 
10,000. 


THE  ISLAND  OF  MALTA. 


17 


The  next  morning  we  awoke  in  the  harbor  of  Malta. 
When  I  came  on  deck  the  hare  hills  of  the  rock-bound 
isle  were  just  bathed  with  the  soft  light  of  the  rising  sun. 
No  trees  could  he  seen,  only  houses  and  rocks,  with  here 
and  there  a  green  patch  of  grass  or  grain  in  a  small  dell. 
It  was  the  Sabbath-day,  and  methought  I  had  never  seen 
such  a  pleasing  image  of  Sahhath-repose  as  this  island, 
way  down  here  in  this  rough  sea,  whose  firm  heights  were 
greeted  by  the  first  rays  of  the  rising  sun.  While  waiting 
to  be  taken  ashore,  and  seated  on  deck,  I  read  the  account 
of  Paul’s  visit  to  Melita,  whose  name  has  since  then  been 
changed  into  Malta. 

W^e  took  up  our  quarters  in  Yaletta,  the  chief  town  of 
the  island.  The  shops  and  stores  were  all  closed,  the 
hells  sent  their  plaintive  peals  from  every  spire,  and  a 
devout-looking  throng  wended  their  way  to  the  sanc¬ 
tuary,  already  at  an  early  hour.  We  attended  service  at 
the  Scotch  Presbyterian  church.  A  young  Caledonian 
preached  an  edifying  discourse,  after  which  the  commu¬ 
nion  of  the  Lord’s  Supper  was  administered.  A  general 
invitation  was  given  to  all  present,  and  under  the  cir¬ 
cumstances  we  felt  greatly  desirous  to  commune  with 
them.  As  the  services  proceeded,  we  found  that  tokens 
were  demanded  at  the  table.  Of  course  only  the  mem¬ 
bers  had  tokens,  so  that  while  all  believers  present  were 
cordially  invited,  only  members  were  permitted  to  com¬ 
mune,  —  a  species  of  fraternity  very  common  in  these 
days  of  sectarian  strife,  which  has  the  wmrd  but  not  the 
power  of  the  Catholic  spirit.  But  withal,  a  most  refresh¬ 
ing  day  of  rest  this  was,  contrasting  very  pleasantly  with 
the  Sabbaths  we  had  spent  at  Naples  during  the  month 
before. 

Malta  is  but  a  small  island,  about  sixty  miles  in  cir- 
2*  B 


i 


18 


POSITION  OF  MALTA. 


cumference,  and  derives  its  main  importance  from  its 
peculiar  position  in  the  Mediterranean.  It  forms  a  kind 
of  gateway  between  the  Occident  and  the  Orient.  To 
this  it  is  mainly  indebted  for  its  numerous  captures.  Its 
position  has  made  it  a  bone  of  contention  among  Eu¬ 
ropean  nations  for  many  centuries.  After  passing  through 
the  hands  of  the  Phoenicians,  Greeks,  Carthagenians,  and 

Romans,  it  was  taken  by  the  Arabs,  A.  D.  870,  who 
$ 

introduced  their  language,  which  is  still  an  ingredient  of 
the  Maltese  dialect.  In  1120  the  Normans  took  it ;  after 
them  successively  the  Germans,  French,  and  Spaniards. 
In  1530  Charles  Y.  gave  it  to  the  Order  of  the  Knights 
of  St.  John,  from  whom  Napoleon  I.  took  it  in  1798,  on 
his  way  to  Egypt.  -And  in  1800  the  English  took  pos¬ 
session  of  it. 

On  its  rock-coast,  indented  by  natural  harbors,  the 
waves  of  the  sea  and  war  have  lashed  and  broken  for 
many  centuries.  Originally  it  was  a  naked  mass  of  rocks. 
The  most  of  the  soil  was  brought  hither  on  ships  from 
Sicily.  The  fields  are  terraced  off*  into  small  plots,  hedged 
in  by  high  walls,  so  as  to  hide  vegetation,  and  give  to 
the  island  a  most  bleak  and  verdureless  appearance.  I 
found  no  trees,  save  the  Carub,  which  bears  a  small  pulpy 
tartish  fruit,  and  the  prickly  pear,  which  looks  like  our 
cactus  grown  to  the  size  of  a  peach  tree. 

The  stones  are  soft,  and  of  a  whitish-grey  color.  They 
dress  them  for  building  purposes  with  broad-axes,  cutting 
them  off*  in  chips  as  if  they  were  blocks  of  wood.  The 
climate  was  pleasant,  quite  June-like.  A  soft  sea-breeze 
kept  fanning  the  island  all  day  long.  In  summer  it  is 
said  to  be  very  hot. 

The  Maltese  are  a  branch  of  the  Arabic  stock,  but 
their  habits  have  been  modified  by  their  governors.  Tho 


V 


HABITS  OF  THE  MALTESE. 


19 


population  is  a  mixture  of  the  most  diversified  national 
ingredients,  and  the  streets  exhibit  an  odd  compound 
of  costumes.  The  Turk  in  petticoat-breeches,  his  brow 
wreathed  with  a  clumsy  turban ;  the  swarthy  Nubian, 
with  his  red,  tasselled  cap  ;  the  tidy  hair-be-greased,  red- 
coated  English  soldier;  Italians,  Arabs,  Russians,  and 
Americans,  in  short,  all  nations  are  huddled  together 
here  in  peaceful  confusion.  My  nearest  neighbor  was  a 
huge  Turk,  who,  like  a  genuine  nabob,  swung  his  gaudy 
attire  in  lofty  style.  The  females  have  uniform  head¬ 
dresses,  consisting  of  a  large  black  silk  scarf,  worn  over 
the  head  and  shoulders,  and  gathered  into  folds  at  one 
side,  which  imparts  a  sombre  aspect  to  the  streets  and 
churches  on  Sundays.  Partly  from  taste  and  partly 
from  poverty,  they  still  live  in  happy  ignorance  of  the 
luxuries  of  more  civilized  life.  The  more  fortunate  ride 
on  a  sort  of  litter,  composed  of  tw’O  shafts,  with  one  end 
on  high,  heavy  wheels,  and  the  other  hung  to  a  horse’s 
back.  A  heavy  cab  is  hung  on  straps  in  the  middle, 
which  swings  like  a  ship  on  a  troubled  sea,  while  the 
driver  runs  nimbly  along  the  side,  leading  the  animal  at  a 
rope.  Another  vehicle  for  more  common  use,  is  a  small 
dray  on  high  wheels,  with  a  mat  spread  over  it,  on  which 
passengers  sit  in  Eastern  style.  A  short  time  previous 
a  few  omnibuses  had  been  imported  from  England  to  run 
between  the  larger  villages  —  a  novelty  which  made  quite 
a  stir  among  the  Maltese,  few  of  whom  had  ever  been  off* 
of  the  island. 

Say  what  you  will,  our  English  cousins  are  politically 
and  socially  more  nearly  akin  to  us  than  any  other  na¬ 
tion.  They  have  their  prickly  repulsive  points,  their 
exclusive  insularity ;  but  coming  from  a  government 
where  gunpowder  plots  are  things  of  daily  occurrence, 


20 


ST.  PAUL'S  DAY  IN  MALTA. 


and  impending  anarchy  a  thing  known  and  read  of  ah 
men  (as  we  had  found  it  at  Naples),  the  flag  of  Britain, 
and  the  air  of  substantial  security  found  in  all  her  do¬ 
minions,  are  a  grateful  change.  Nowhere,  since  I  had 
left  the  soil  of  England,  had  I  inhaled  such  an  atmosphere 
of  home  comfort  as  on  this  island.  The  moment  I  put 
my  foot  ashore,  I  felt  satisfied  that  I  was  where  the 
rulers  and  the  ruled  would  not  be  likely  to  change  places 
very  soon.  What  a  difierence  in  governments !  Italy, 
with  a  most  salubrious  climate,  has  many  thousand  acres 
of  as  fine  land  as  the  sun  ever  shone  upon,  unploughed, 
unsown,  and  unreaped,  while  her  famishing  beggars  have 
neither  bread  nor  labor.  And  here,  on  this  little  heap  ^ 

of  rocks,  made  arable  with  the  soil  of  a  neighboring 
island,  live  and  labor  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
people,  thrifty,  contented,  and  comparatively  happy. 

The  day  after  our  arrival  was  St.  Paul’s  day,  —  a 
general  holiday.  The  main  streets  were  densely  crowded 
with  Maltese,  from  every  part  of  the  island,  who,  from 
early  morning,  hurried  merrily  into  Yaletta  on  their  drays, 
donkeys,  and  litters.  Their  large  bells  are  seldom  rung, 
but  rapidly  hammered  upon.  This  day  they  kept  up  an 
incessant  ding-dong  clattering  and  .  almost  deafening 
noise.  In  St.  Paul’s  church  an  ecclesiastic  preached  to 
a  large  crowd,  who  seemed  to  listen  with  devout  atten¬ 
tion.  I  could  not  understand  the  sermon,  but  there  was 
a  ferocity  in  his  voice  and  gestures,  that  put  all  devo¬ 
tion  at  defiance.  In  the  meanwhile  the  streets  resounded 
with  the  firing  of  crackers  and  pistols,  for  the  edification 
of  the  less  devout.  In  the  evening  the  Catholic  portions 
of  the  city  were  illuminated.  Two  gothic  arches  spanned 
St.  Paul’s  street,  hung  with  blazing  festoons ;  a  dashing 
evolution  of  fireworks  from  these  arches,  spitting  and 


CATACOMBS  OF  CIVITA  VECCHIA.  21 


whirling  out  blazing  forms,  closed  the  ceremonies  of  the 
day. 

Near  the  southeastern  end  of  the  island  we  found  the 
remains  of  an  ancient  building,  the  castle  of  Creni,  which 
may  possibly  have  belonged  to  its  primitive  settlers. 
Large  blocks  of  stone  are  rudely  piled  up,  while  some 
have  been  displaced  by  earthquakes  and  other  causes. 
At  Civita  Vecchia  we  entered  a  small  cell,  which  is 
honored  by  many  as  the  abode  of  Paul  while  he  tarried 
here.  Being  furnished  with  tapers,  we  were  led  down  a 
dark  stairway  into  the  catacombs.  These  underground 
cities,  which  we  also  had  found  at  Rome  and  Naples,  all 
seem  cast  over  the  same  mould.  Those  at  Rome  extend 
many  miles  under  the  ground,  and  have  so  many  crooked 
alleys  branching  out,  that  strangers  once  lost  in  them, 
or  having  their  light  put  out,  have  no  hope  of  ever 
getting  to  daylight  again.  We  stooped  through  the 
low  narrow  passages  ramifying  in  different  directions. 
Here  and  there  shelves  and  coffins  were  cut  out  of 
the  rocky  sides,  where  the  silent  tenants  of  the  sun¬ 
less  city  once  slept.  Strange  life  some  of  those  poor 
ancients  must  have  led,  whose  dead  were  never  buried 
out  of  their  sight ;  —  the  living  and  the  dead  dwelling 
together. 

Tradition  has  fixed  upon  a  small  bay  on  the  eastern 
coast  of  the  island,  as  the  place  where  Paul  was  ship¬ 
wrecked.  He  is  said  to  have  first  landed  on  a  small 
island  in  the  mouth  of  the  bay,  near  which  the  ship  had 
stranded.  I  saw  nothing  that  looked  like  the  “  certain 
creek  with  a  shore,  into  W'hich  they  were  minded,  if  it 
were  possible,  to  thrust  in  the  ship;”  unless  it  might 
have  been  the  narrow  channel  between  the  small  island 
and  the  shore.  This,  too,  might  be  the  place  where  two 


22 


SCENE  OF  Paul’s  shipwreck. 


seas  met.  Acts  27.  There  are  rocks  enough  above 
and  belojv  water  to  wreck  any  ship  during  a  storm.  He 
says  they  were  driven  up  and  down  in  Adria,”  which 
perhaps  means  the  Adriatic.  And  so  the  island  of 
Meleda,  in  this  sea,  has  come  to  claim  the  honor  of 
having  received  Paul  from  the  wreck.  Malta  is  dry  and 
rocky,  has  no  snakes  or  vipers,  had  none  in  the  time  of 
Pliny.  Meleda  is  famous  for  being  wet  and  woody,  and 
might  naturally  furnish  the  viper  that  “  fastened  on  his 
hand.”  But  this  is  about  all  that  can  be  said  in  its  favor. 
Fevers  and  other  malignant  diseases  are  found  at  both 
places.  Still,  I  think  the  evidence  preponderates  in 
favor  of  Malta.  I  felt  happy  in  believing  that  my  eyes 
rested  on  the  sea  that  bore  and  broke  his  ship.  Listen¬ 
ing  to  the  roar  of  the  foam-crested  waves  as  they  broke 
on  the  rough  coast,  methought  I  could  see  the  crew  light¬ 
ening  the  ship,  and  cast  the  wheat  into  the  sea,  —  some 
cast  themselves  first  into  the  sea  and  swam  to  land,  “  the 
rest,  some  on  boards,  and  some  on  broken  pieces  of  the 
ship,”  drifted  ashore,  two  hundred  and  seventy-six  in 
all,  —  and  finally  Paul,  almost  exhausted,  coming  out  of 
the  sea,  dripping  and  trembling  with  cold.  Acts  27. 

In  winter  a  stormy  sea  is  still  very  common  in  this  part 
of  the  Mediterranean,  as  I  afterwards  learned  from  bitter 
experience.  After  tarrying  three  months,  Paul  took  pas¬ 
sage  in  an  Alexandrian  ship  ;  showing  that  then,  as  now, 
there  was  communication  between  Alexandria  and  Malta. 
Then,  as  now,  ships  were  known  by  certain  names.  The 
name  of  his  ship  was  Castor  and  Pollux.  Sailing  ves¬ 
sels  are  more  at  the  mercy  of  the  waves  than  steamers ; 
so  this  ship  “had  wintered  in  the  isle,”  till  the  sea  would 
calm  into  a  safer  mood.  They  sailed  north,  touched  at 
Syracuse,  where  they  spent  three  days,  and  then  passed 


I 


\  PAULATROME.  23 

round  to  Rhegium;  then  a  south  wind,  which  usually 
blows  in  the  spring,  helped  them  on  to  Puteoli,  near 
Naples,  in  sight  of  Baiae,  the  pride  of  the  voluptuous 
Romans.  Here  they  found  brethren,  and  were  desired 
to  tarry  with  them  seven  days.”  A  few  piers  still  mark 
the  site  of  the  old  Roman  wharf  at  Naples,  perhaps  part 
of  that  on  which  Paul  landed.  Then,  after  seven  da;y  3 
he  went  on  his  way  towards  Rome,  a  prisoner  among  pri¬ 
soners,  through  Eden-like  plains,  teeming  with  luxury  and 
lust.  Part  of  our  journey  from  Rome  to  Naples  was  over 
the  old  Appian  Way,  which  they  travelled.  At  Appii  Fo¬ 
rum  ‘‘  the  brethren  came  to  meet”  them.  A  gloomy  soli¬ 
tary  inn  at  present  marks  this  spot.  It  is  in  the  heart  of 
the  Pontine  Marshes,  whose  deadly  swamps  fill  the  air  with 
poisonous  exhalations.  But  few  persons  venture  hither, 
and  these  hasten  away  again  as  soon  as  they  have  at¬ 
tended  to  their  fiocks.  Those  that  remain  look  sallow  and 
sickly.  Twenty-five  miles  beyond  this  is  Cisterna,  built 
on  the  ruins  of  the  Three  Taverns.  Forty  miles  further 
tiiey  reached  Rome  ;  a  long  walk  they  had  after  such  an 
exhausting  sea  voyage.  Feeble  by  nature,  and  fatigued 
by  a  tedious  journey,  the  prisoner  must  have  made  a 
weak  and  harmless  appearance,  in  the  sight  of  the  proud 
glutted  Romans.  Poor  man,  he  felt  weak  and  alone  in 
his  chains ;  but  when  he  saw  the  brethren,  he  “  thanked 
God  and  took  courage.” 

Rome  then  looked  prouder  and  more  powerful  than 
now.  The  country  along  the  Appian  Way,  now  mostly 
deserted,  was  strewn  with  the  villas  of  wealthy  Romans. 
No  steamer  then  rode  over  the  swelling  sea ;  but  the 
grass,  foliage,  and  sky  of  Italy,  looked  as  pretty  then  as 
now.  The  waters  of  the  sea  were  as  blue  as  now.  Paul 
saw  the  same  islands  we  saw.  His  ship  rocked  like  ours, 


24 


APOSTOLIC  TRIALS, 


and  the  sequel  proved  that  he  and  his  companions  were 
made  of  like  stuff  with  ourselves.  For  fourteen  days 
they  had  eaten  nothing,  for  the  very  good  reason  that 
the  swinging  of  the  ship  had  kept  them  sea-sick  all  the 
while.  At  length  he  had  to  press  food  upon  them  for 
their  “health.”  I  have  had  a  lesson  in  this  kind  of 
“  fasting,”  which  aids  me  greatly  in  appreciating  the 
narrative.  The  steward  might  bring  the  choicest  dish, 
and  entreat  me  to  take  a  little  to  keep  up  strength ;  but 
the  hare  sight  of  it  would  provoke  an  ill  temper  in 
stomach  and  spirit.  Only  by  dint  of  a  mighty  effort 
could  the  start  be  made.  Thus  Paul  sailed,  suffered, 
swam,  and  walked  towards  Rome,  as  every  mortal  has 
to  do  who  carries  about  with  him  a  frail  human  body ; 
but  an  imposing  character  after  all,  towering  high  above 
his  cotemporaries  in  true  greatness.  Where  is  there 
an  emperor  or  philosopher  with  a  name  or  fame  like 
Paul’s  ?  Rome,  with  her  ancient  greatness,  has  toppled 
over ;  her  annals  now  only  “  point  a  moral  or  adorn  a 
tale,”  while  he  wrought  at  an  empire  which  has  outlived 
and  shall  continue  to  outlive  earth’s  proudest  kingdoms. 


EMBARK  FOR  EGYPT. 


25 


CHAPTER  II. 


^rnm  tn  aUxanhin. 


‘‘  Hope  deferred  maketh  the  heart  sick.”  Wc  were 
on  our  way  to  Alexandria,  but  it  so  happened  that  the 
sea  rolled  across  our  path.  For  two  long  days  the 
English  and  French  steamers  were  due,  always  coming 
yet  never  came.  One  was  due  on  the  Sabbath.  Should 
we  start  on  a  voyage  on  the  Lord’s  day  ?  Beneath  the 
wings  of  “Sweet  Home,”  we  should  say,  no.  But  this 
is  rather  a  dreary  island  when  one  is  done  with  it.  And 
we  cannot  leave  unless  the  boat  leaves,  and  to  loiter  and 
lounge  lazily  about  here  for  weeks  until  some  chance 
ship  may  happen  to  pass  along  on  a  week  day,  when  a 
few  weeks’  detention  might  spoil  much  of  a  man’s  jour¬ 
ney  in  the  East,  was  rather  a  serious  test  of  our  Sabbatic 
fidelity.  But  the  non-arrival  of  the  boat  relieved  us  of 
further  trouble  on  this  point.  On  the  following  evening 
we  received  word  that  the  small  French  steamer  Valetta, 
which  had  lain  in  the  harbor  a  few  days,  would  start  for 
Alexandria.  The  night  was  dark  as  Erebus.  The  bark 
that  took  us  out  on  board  stirred  up  the  phosphorescent 
water.  Every  beat  of  the  oars  rolled  off  a  luminous  '' 
wave,  so  that  our  course  left  a  fiery  trail  on  the  sea. 
The  water  seemed  surcharged  with  phosphorus,  which 
the  stirring  of  the  oars  and  paddle-wheels  spun  over  tlie 
sea  in  gleaming  sheets  of  light,  that  looked  unearthly  in 

a 


26  UNPLEASANT  SEA  VOYAGE. 

the  dark  night.  At  ten,  the  creaking  of  the  machinery 
commenced,  by  which  time  I  had  firmly  fixed  myself 
into  a  narrow  crib,  to  keep  in  readiness  for  any  disposi¬ 
tion  the  sea  might  make  of  me.  Gently  it  cradled  me 
to  sleep.  Next  morning  I  arose  well  pleased,  for  I  had 
made  up  my  mind  to  get  sick.  But  walking  up  the 
stairway  the  sea  swelled,  the  boat  suddenly  rose  and  fell, 
and  there  it  had  me.  I  staggered  up  and  down  the 
rocking  deck,  firmxly  bent  to  brave  the  sea,  at  all 
hazards  ;  but  again  I  was  defeated.  I  could  not  get  to 
the  table  for  three  days  and  a  half,  until  we  disembarked. 
Long  days  and  nights  those  were  through  which  I  pined 
and  sighed,  listening  to  the  roar  of  the  sea  and  the  tread 
of  the  sailors  on  deck.  And  a  precious  time  it  was  to 
meditate  upon  Paul’s  stormy  voyage  to  Malta,  to  which 
I  did  ample  justice,  in  the  meanwhile  wondering  whether 
I  could  not  get  back  to  it,  or  to  some  other  spot  of  dry 
ground  which  would  not  rock  and  roll  me  into  such  tor¬ 
ments.  A  young  merchant  from  Hamburg  was  in  the 
same  state-room  with  myself,  whom  I  did  not  learn  to 
know  until  we  had  reached  Cairo.  This  shows  how  un¬ 
companionable  a  man  is  when  in  such  a  state.  Long 
shall  I  remember  that  villainous  Yaletta,  rolling  like  a 
coffee  roaster  in  the  hands  of  a  diligent  woman. 

On  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day,  the  low  land  of 
Egypt  hove  in  sight,  wLich  cured  me  at  once.  In  a 
moment  I  was  on  deck  with  spy-glass  in  hand,  healthy 
and  happy,  eager  to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  first  object  that 
met  the  view.  Tall  columns,  like  furnace  chimneys,  with 
large  wheels  hung  perpendicularly  to  the  outside,  we  dis¬ 
covered  to  be  windmills.  The  country  receded  far  as 
file  eye  could  reach,  into  a  low,  flat,  sandy  plain.  My 
neart  beat  with  expectant  joy  at  the  sight  of  Pompey’s 


ALEXANDRIA. 


27 


pillar,  the  stately  way-mark  of  the  mariners  for  more 
than  two  thousand  years;  and  when  I  saw”  the  minarets 
of  Alexandria,  I  felt  that  some  of  my  long-cherished 
dreams  were  about  to  be  realized. 

The  harbor  contained  a  large  number  of  vessels  from 
^  different  nations ;  most  of  them  flourished  small  red 
flags  from  their  mast-heads,  with  the  crescent  and  a  star, 
reminding  us  that  we  were  entering  upon  Mohammedan 
dominions.  Our  boat  weighed  anchor  opposite  the  quay, 
which  soon  poured  a  swarthy  mob  of  boisterous,  turbaned 
boatmen  after  us.  These  raised  a  fearful  commotion, 
all  screaming  and  shouting  at  the  top  of  their  voices, 
clamoring  and  scolding  to  get  nearest  the  boat,  snarling 
and  snapping  as  if  ready  to  devour  each  other,  fisting  about 
most  ferociously,  until  the  noise  became  almost  deafening. 
They  barked  their  deep  gutterals  at  us,  reminding  one 
of  a  set  of  hungry  wolves,  trying  to  get  a  frightened  man 
from  a  tree.  We  descended  into  the  bark  of  one  of  these 
yelping  beings,  to  go  ashore.  In  the  meanwhile  a  regi¬ 
ment  of  a  score  or  two  of  donkeys,  with  blear-eyed  half- 
naked  drivers,  had  assembled  on  the  shore  to  escort  us 
to  the  hotel.  The  captain  of  our  little  party,  Mr.  C., 
from  Boston,  possessing  the  rare  gift  of  making  men  of 
all  tongues  understand  English,  told  them  w'e  wanted 
none.  We  pushed  our  way  through  the  street,  with  the 
whole  crowd  of  men  and  animals  tightly  around  us,  all 
screaming  ‘‘ Howajee,”  “good  donkey,”  and  whipping 
them  on  to  us.  We  were  separated  in  the  scufile,  each 
pushing  and  kicking  his  way  slowly  along.  Looking 
around  for  my  comrades,  I  saw  two  Arabs  seizing  Mr 
E.,  one  at  each  leg,  and  carrying  him,  nolens  volens^  over 
the  noisy  crowd,  to  set  him  on  their  donkey.  The  poor 
"ellow  blushed  and  blowed,  scolded  them  in  good  Eng- 


28 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  THE  ORIENT. 


lish,  and  pommelled  their  cushioned  heads  with  all  the 
power  of  his  little  tailor  fists ;  hut  have  him  they  would, 
and  have  him  they  did.  Just  then  two  soldiers  came 
along,  armed  with  a  club  and  gun,  wdth  which  they 
pitched  into  these  vagabonds,  and  soon  made  them  drop 
their  unwilling  prize.  His  fall  was  even  more  abrupt 
than  his  elevation.  This  dispersed  the  pestering  crew, 
and  being  left  to  go  our  way  without  further  trouble,  we 
soon  reached  the  Frank  quarter.  This  consists  of  a 
large  square  in  the  upper  part  of  the  city,  where  we 
were  cleverly  housed  in  the  Hotel  de  I’Europe. 

Many  are  the  charms  and  defects,  comforts  and  dis¬ 
comforts,  which  an  Oriental  city  possesses  for  a  man  from 
the  western  world. '  True,  our  reception  on  this  threshold 
of  the  Orient  was  somewhat  boisterous,  but  this  was 
soon  forgotten  amid  the  rush  of  novelty.  One  is  pre¬ 
pared  to  be  pleased  with  the  most  outlandish  and  unre¬ 
fined  sights,  for  the  mere  sake  of  seeing  them.  The 
streets  swarming  with  odd  costumes  and  no  costumes ; 
the  gay  bazaars  or  shops  in  dark  narrow  streets,  roofed 
over,  each  shop  or  store  being  like  a  large  cupboard, 
where  the  bronze-complexioned  salesman  sits  tailor-fashion 
in  the  door,  through  which  he  sells  to  persons  in  the 
street,  he  the  meanwhile  smoking  his  two-yard  long  pipe, 
with  another  by  his  side,  for  the  entertainment  of  the 
next  customer ;  the  unknown  and  unseen  females  rust¬ 
ling  by  with  shuffling  tread,  in  their  inflated  balloon-like 
dresses,  which,  but  for  two  eyes  blinking  through  little 
holes  in  their  veils,  might  be  taken  for  bales  of  silk  or 
white  linen  endowed  with  self-locomotion  ;  others  wrapped 
in  coarse  blue  cloth,  filthy  as  the  earth,  with  half-blind 
scabby  children  astride  a  shoulder,  and  holding  on  to  the 
head ;  the  crowds  of  solemn-looking  street-loungers,  wdth 


pompey’s  pillar. 


29 


a  tight  heavy-clothed  red  cap,  and  a  thick  twisted  white 
cloth  wrapped  around  the  temple,  called  a  turban,  petti¬ 
coat-breeches,  tight  roundabout,  sometimes  a  scarlet 
robe  folded  round  them ;  then  comes  a  lady  astride  a 
donkey,  folded  in  gorgeous  silks,  with  a  half-naked 
driver,  scolding  a  passage  through  the  crowd ;  long 
lines  of  camels  laden  with  large  skins  and  kegs  of  water, 
threading  the  streets  in  single  file,  high  over  the  sea  of 
thick  white  heads ;  all  these  combine  to  form  a  scene  of 
unimaginable  interest. 

Mounting  our  donkeys,  we  rode  out  to  Pompey’s  pillar, 
which  is  in  the  old  part  of  the  city.  The  way  thither 
led  over  piles  of  debris,  and  along  streets  of  squalid 
huts,  the  abode  of  disease-brooding  filth,  famine,  and 
nakedness.  Here  and  there  were  clumps  of  palm  trees, 
whose  tops  sighed  mournfully  over  the  grave  of  the 
departed  city.  What  a  world  of  pride  and  passion,  of 
long  forgotten  glory  rotted  and  dead,  lies  buried  in  this 
tomb  of  the  past !  The  pillar  stands  on  an  elevation, 
which  overlooks  a  vast  district  of  land  and  sea.  It  is 
composed  of  one  solid  block  of  red  granite,  ninety  feet 
high  and  nine  feet  in  diameter.  All  around  it  are 
mounds  and  hills,  covering  the  ruins  of  Egypt’s  great¬ 
ness.  A  half-exhumed  house  here,  and-  a  broken  column 
there,  remind  one  that  he  is  walking  over  the  monuments 
of  one  of  the  greatest  nations  of  antiquity.  On  our 
return  we  passed  the  famous  obelisk  called  Cleopatra’s 
Needle,  likewise  composed  of  red  granite.  The  hiero¬ 
glyphics  on  one  side  have  been  partly  worn  away,  per¬ 
haps  by  the  action  of  the  Sirocco,  blowing  in  upon  it 
from  the  desert  for  3500  years.  Another  colossal  obe- 
’isk  lies  prostrate  near  by.  One  of  these  was  erected 
sixteen  centuries  before  our  era. 

3* 


30 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDRIA. 


The  modern  Alexandria  bears  little  resemblance  to 
the  ancient ;  many  of  its  leading  merchants  and  traders 
are  Europeans.  The  arrangement  and  aspect  of  the 
city  are  not  purely  Oriental.  Alexander  the  Great 
founded  the  old  city,  to  form  a  connecting  link  between 
the  East  and  the  West;  and  this  office  it  still  performs, 
especially  since  India  has  been  opened  to  European  trade. 
The  old  city  had  600,000  inhabitants  ;  the  present  one 
has  40,000.  Here  the  famous  Alexandrian  library  was 
founded,  containing  700,000  volumes,  and  which  helped 
to  make  Alexandria  the  centre  of  ancient  learning.  In 
the  second  century  before  Christ,  the  Old  Testament 
was  here  translated  into  Greek, — a  version  called  the 
Septuagint, — which  conveyed  the  word  of  God  to  learned 
heathen,  and  prepared  the  way  for  the  coming  of  Christ. 
“A  certain  Jew,  named  Apollos,  an  eloquent  man  and 
mighty  in  the  Scriptures,  was  horn  at  Alexandria.” 
Acts  18  :  24.  Clemens  and  Origin  founded  catecheti¬ 
cal  schools  here,  in  which  scientific  Christian  theology 
was  first  taught.  Here,  too,  we  find  Athanasius,  one  of 
the  greatest  champions  of  the  early  Church.  When 
Amrou  took  it  in  640,  he  said :  I  have  taken  the  great 
city  of  the  West,  which  contains  4000  palaces,  4000 
baths,  400  theatres,  12,000  shops,  and  contains  40,000 
tributary  Jews.”  But  her  ancient  glory  has  departed. 
Long  since  the  desolation  foretold  by  the  prophet  has 
come  upon  her.  Son  of  man,  wail  for  the  multitude 
of  Egypt,  and  cast  them  down,  even  her,  and  the  daugh¬ 
ters  of  the  famous  nations,  unto  the  nether  parts  of  the 
earth,  with  them  that  go  down  into  the  pit.”  Ezekiel 
32  :  18.  Her  commerce  and  trade  are,  however,  re¬ 
viving,  and  the  present  posture  of  things  in  the  East  would 
seem  to  assign  her  an  important  position  for  the  future. 


JOURNEY  ALONG  THE  NILE. 


31 


It  may  be  of  interest  to  the  reader  to  know  the  price 
of  living  in  a  first-class  hotel  of  Alexandria.  Boarding, 
f  2.40  a  day,  24  cents  for  service,  and  12  cents  for  light, 
no  matter  whether  you  use  any  or  not.  And  most  tra¬ 
vellers  would  cheerfully  give  a  servant  another  shilling 
or  two  to  brush  the  hungry  fleas  away  while  they  at¬ 
tempt  to  sleep.  I  had  hoped  that  a  house  entertaining 
most  of  the  India  passengers,  would  protect  one  against 
vermin.  The  motion  of  the  sea  which  followed  me  into 
my  land-berth,  kept  the  room  rocking  and  swinging, 
which,  added  to  the  flea-scourge,  was  not  easily  borne  by 
one  so  much  in  need  of  rest. 

Feh.  21.  The  next  morning,  our  donkeys  ambled  with 
a  quick  pace  towards  the  depot,  and  soon  the  train 
dashed  us  along  the  Nile  over  the  fertile  plains  of  Egypt. 
The  shrill  whistle  sounded  strangely  along  the  banks  of 
this  ancient  river.  Coming  to  an  arm  of  the  Nile,  the 
train  was  put  on  a  bridge ;  but  instead  of  crossing  over 
it,  the  train  stood  still  and  the  bridge*  crossed.  It  was 
partly  of  iron,  with  only  one  span  finished,  which  was  so 
made  as  to  move  from  one  bank  to  the  other,  carrying 
the  trains  across  by  means  of  a  stationary  engine. 

On  our  way  we  passed  a  village  where  a  vast  multi¬ 
tude  had  assembled,  and  a  caravan  was  approaching, 
three  miles  long,  all  on  a  pilgrimage  to  the  tomb  of  a 
Moslem  saint  at  this  place.  At  another  town,  a  medley 
procession  came  out,  celebrating  the  nuptials  of  some 
happy  couple.  Some  played  with  timbrels,  dancing  and 
singing  before  the  crowd.  2  Sam.  6  :  14. 

The  country  teemed  with  luxuriant  vegetation — wheat, 
flax,  beans,  oats,  and  tall  grass.  Small  flocks  of  cattle 
were  grazing  in  all  directions.  As  they  have  no  fences 
here,  they  generally  tie  their  cattle  to  wooden  pins, 


32 


PYRAMIDS  OF  CAIRO. 


driven  into  the  ground.  The  towns  were  on  little  eleva¬ 
tions,  where  the  Nile  flood  cannot  reach  them.  All  the 
houses  were  built  of  unburnt  brick,  resembling  mud  huts 
or  magnified  ant  hills.  The  streets  were  full  of  dust 
and  debris,  on  which  men,  women,  and  yelping  dogs 
were  promiscuously  seated.  The  country  was  intersected 
by  canals,  on  whose  banks  buffaloes  and  oxen  were  yoked 
to  long  beams,  which  worked  wheels  to  pump  water. 

Nearly  two  hours  before  we  reached  Cairo,  some  one 
shouted,  “the  Pyramids;”  and  sure  enough,  there  the 
world-renowned  Pyramids  rose  on  the  horizon.  No 
larger  than  that  ?  said  I  to  myself.  For  at  a  distance 
of  thirty  miles,  their  imposing  size  appears  considerably 
smaller  than  the  reality.  But  to  be  whirled  and  whistled 
toward  the  city  of  the  Pharaohs  and  the  Pyramids  of 
Egypt,  on  a  locomotive  train,  gives  one  much  to  think 
about.  Dark-visaged  Bedouins,  the  roving  children  of 
Esau,  gazed  with  wild  but  speechless  amazement,  at  the 
steaming,  puffing  monster,  dashing  by  them.  When  the 
train  halted  in  a  nineteenth-century  depot,  I  could  scarcely 
realize  that  I  was  at  Grand  Cairo  in  Egypt.  After 
giving  our  baggage  to  a  porter,  we  passed  into  the  street. 
A  rabble  crowd  of  donkey  drivers  stood  in  waiting  at 
the  outside.  They  gently  held  their  peace  until  we  had 
worked  ourselves  out  of  the  vast  crowd  of  Turks,  Arabs, 
Ethiopians,  and  Egyptians ;  but  then  switches  whizzed 
in  all  directions,  and  a  dense  blockade  of  fifty  or  a  hun¬ 
dred  donkeys  quickly  wedged  us  in,  each  driver  trying 
to  get  nearest  the  stranger.  The  air  was  filled  with 
clouds  of  dust,  and  the  hideous  vociferous  noise  of  bray¬ 
ing  asses  and  their  shrieking  drivers.  Our  little  party, 
unaccustomed  to  such  a  mode  of  warfare,  was  soon 
thrown  into  confusion  and  separated  from  each  other. 


33 


AN  UNPLEASANT  SITUATION. 

Each  one  had  to  fight  his  own  battle.  Gladly  would  I 
have  mounted  a  donkey  to  escape  the  frightful  confusion 
and  the  danger  of  being  trodden  under  foot  by  them, 
but  the  tightly  packed  pile  around  me  completely  fet¬ 
tered  my  limbs.  A  few  earnest  blows  drove  them  into  a 
momentary  retreat,  but  when  they  discovered  my  willing¬ 
ness  to  ride,  each  was  determined  that  it  should  be  on 
his  donkey.  They  made  a  desperate  rush.  It  was  too 
much  even  for  a  man  of  some  patience  to  bear.  Throw¬ 
ing  moral  suasion  to  the  winds,  I  carried  the  war  into 
the  enemy’s  camp,  cutting  and  slashing  away  indiscrimi¬ 
nately  at  man  and  beast.  Not  possessed  of  a  great  deal 
of  foresight,  they  had  walled  themselves  in  among  a 
dense  heap  of  asses,  so  that  a  sudden  retreat  was  im¬ 
possible.  They  became  entangled  among  their  animals. 
I  got  within  reach  of  a  stout  athletic  Arab,  who  was 
completely  hobbled  among  the  confused  mass.  He 
vainly  tried  to  extricate  himself  by  jumping  out  of  it, 
as  if  ready  to  run  away  over  their  backs,  pushing  and 
pommeling  the  long-eared  and  long-headed  animals  with 
a  desperate  energy.  He  twisted  and  shrugged  his 
shoulders,  and  cast  a  savage  and  revengeful  look  at  me, 
as  blow  after  blow  thwacked  across  his  broad  back.  The 
rabble  was  dispersed,  and  ere  they  could  rally  again,  we 
were  galloping  off  towards  Shepherd’s  Hotel.  The  ar¬ 
gument  of  the  rod  is  clear  and  convincing  to  men  of 
every  tongue.  I  might  perhaps  have  performed  this 
earnest  duty  from  more  amiable  motives;  still,  a  duty  it 
was,  and  I  have  reason  to  hope  that  its  vigorous  per¬ 
formance  taught  the  Egyptian  better  manners. 

Shepherd’s  Hotel,  at  the  edge  of  the  city,  is  the  only 
one  worthy  of  the  name  in  Cairo.  It  is  delightfully 
situated,  fronting  on  a  spacious  square  with  large  trees, 

c 


34 


SUNDAY  IN  CAIRO. 


having  the  city  on  one  side  and  the  country  on  the 
other.  The  whole  is  on  a  thoroughfare,  where  small  and 
great,  with  an  occasional  dash  of  the  nobility,  continu¬ 
ally  pass.  The  streets  pour  out  long  lines  of  laden 
camels ;  scores  of  donkeys,  each  bearing  a  skin  of  water, 
looking  like  a  black  scalded  hog  with  the  grease  oozing 
out  in  the  hot  sun ;  females  on  decorated  donkeys  ;  offi¬ 
cers  with  noble  steeds  richly  caparisoned ;  coaches  of 
the  Pashas  with  footmen  running  ahead  to  clear  the  way 
and  telling  them  who  is  coming.  Pharaoh  made  Joseph 
to  ride  in  the  second  chariot  which  he  had,  and  they 
cried  before  him:  ‘‘Bow  the  knee.”  Gen.  41  :  43.  I 
found  that  the  Pasha  of  Egypt  and  his  men  of  state 
were  always  preceded  by  such  runners,  opening  the  way 
and  urging  the  people. to  show  their  respect. 

The  next  day  was  the  Sabbath,  but  the  streets  were 
just  as  noisy  and  full  of  stir  as  the  day  before.  The 
Mohammedans  have  their  Sabbath  on  Friday,  and  the 
Jews  on  Saturday,  so  that  in  the  East  the  people  have 
three  Sabbaths  in  a  week ;  but  none  of  these,  not  even 
the  Mohammedan  Sabbath,  is  a  general  day  of  rest. 
The  push,  drive,  and  confusion,  is  equally  great  on  all 
days.  In  the  morning  we  attended  services  at  the  chapel 
of  the  English  Church  Missionary  Society.  Dr.  Lieder, 
a  German  clergyman,  preached  a  very  edifying  sermon 
in  broken  English,  on  Numbers  23  :  10.  The  small 
room  was  pretty  well  filled.  In  the  court  of  the  chapel 
we  met  two  Egyptian  lads,  neatly  dressed,  who  bade  us 
“Good  morning.”  Asking  whether  they  were  Chris¬ 
tians,  one  replied,  “  Yes,  and  my  father  and  mother  are 
Christians  too.”  They  seemed  so  happy  that  they  could 
tell  us  this  of  their  parents.  In  the  afternoon  we  went 
to  a  small  “upper  room,”  in  a  third  story,  in  the 


J 


MISSIONARY  LIFE  IN  EGYPT. 


35 


house  of  the  American  missionaries.  Rev.  Mr.  Edwards, 
an  Independent  minister,  from  London,  preached  an 
excellent  discourse  on  Romans  10  :  2-3,  to  twenty-three 
hearers,  mostly  travellers.  The  following  Sabbath  I 
attended  an  Arabic  service  at  the  same  place.  There 
were  only  half  a  dozen  natives  present.  The  mission  is 
supported  by  the  Associate  Reformed  Church,  and  has 
had  to  encounter  formidable  difliculties.  How  few  Chris¬ 
tians  have  the  faintest  conception  of  the  trials  of  most 
foreign  missionaries  !  They  labor  patiently  for  years  to 
acquire  the  language,  at  best  but  imperfectly.  They 
spend  years  more  of  persevering  toil,  and  even  then 
find  the  immediate  results  apparently  small.  Still  to 
labor  on  in  these  circumstances  without  discouragement, 
shows  a  degree  of  faith  which  few  possess. 

Our  first  business  in  exploring  the  wonders  of  Egypt, 
was  to  form  a  more  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  tribe 
of  donkey  drivers.  For  these  donkeys  or  asses  are  the 
carryalls  of  the  East,  serving  for  wheelbarrows,  drays, 
carts,  cabs,  and  omnibuses.  Dozens  would  congregate 
around  our  door,  and  the  moment  some  newdy-arrived 
traveller  made  his  appearance,  switches  whizzed,  and 
suddenly  all  asses  rushed  around  their  victim.  A  friend 
returning  from  his  first  hour’s  ride  paid  fifty  cents,  after 
his  driver  had  made  a  boisterous  clamor  that  no  less 
could  be  taken.  The  usual  rate  is  from  five  to  ten  cents. 
This  was  our  first  lesson.  They  seem  to  be  a  merry 
race.  While  pushing  and  patting  their  animals  onward, 
they  entertain  the  rider  with  fragments  of  sailor’s  Eng¬ 
lish.  For  several  days  my  driver  kept  shouting,  ‘‘By 
and  by,  howajee,  by  and  by;”  by  which  he  meant,  as 
I  afterwards  learned,  that  I  should  not  ride  so  fast. 
They  are  remarkably  nimble-footed,  wearing  but  a  loose 


36 


EGYPTIAN  DONKEYS. 


sliirt  for  their  apparel.  Their  limbs  and  consciences 
seem  alike  free  from  tenderness ;  they  can  run  and  lie 
with  equal  celerity. 

As  beasts  of  burden,  and  even  for  convenient  easy 
gait,  the  donkey  is  not  to  be  despised.  With  a  driver, 
as  each  one  has  here,  skilful  in  the  use  of  the  switch,  it 
is  an  excellent  animal  for  safe  and  comfortable  carriage. 
It  is  the  ass  of  the  Bible,  the  same  as  those  which  the 
brethren  of  Joseph  “laded  with  corn”  which  Jacob  sent 
them  hither  to  buy.  On  “  the  colt  of  an  ass  ”  our  Sa¬ 
viour  made  his  triumphal  entry  into  Jerusalem.  Though 
easily  mounted,  at  first  it  seems  an  awkward  business 
for  a  man  full  grown,  or  perhaps  a  little  more  so,  to 
ride  on  such  a  diminutive  relic  of  antiquity.  I  found 
that  I  could  almost  ride  and  walk  without  shifting  my 
position.  One  should  suppose  that  a  seat  so  near  the 
ground  would  render  a  tumble  an  easy  and  short  pro¬ 
cess,  but  we  found  it  just  the  opposite.  Every  day  some 
one  of  our  little  party  would  suddenly  be  sent  sprawling 
from  an  easy  amble  to  take  his  position  in  the  dust,  and 
that  too  with  such  a  crushing,  head-foremost,  neck¬ 
breaking  tumble,  as  to  make  it  a  most  serious  operation. 


It  is  not  always  the  highest;  fall  which  is  the  hardest. 
When  one  sits  on  such  a  small  lump  of  flesh  and  blood, 
he  seems  so  closely  identified  with  it,  and  nothing  to 
catch  a  hold  of,  that  a  stumble  of  the  one  almost  simul¬ 
taneously  produces  a  tumble  of  the  other.  Nothing  can 
be  more  excruciatingly  unmusical  than  the  braying  of 
an  ass.  He  screeches  out  his  distressing  noise  with  dis¬ 
tended  nostrils,  flinging  his  ears  and  jerking  his  head, 
as  if  in  the  last  kicks  of  strangulation.  The  sound  is 
something  between  the  filing  of  a  large  saw,  and  a  well- 
rosined  horse-fiddle.  The  first  thought  it  provokes  is  to 
run  away,  or  dash  after  liim  with  a  cane. 


STREETS  OF  CAIRO. 


37 


CHAPTER  III. 


Cairn. 


The  population  of  Cairo  is  variously  estimated  from 
200,000  to  250,000.  The  city  is  like  a  vast  hive,  swarm¬ 
ing  through  the  shop-streets,  called  bazaars.  These  are 
mostly  roofed.  The  tradesmen  have  their  goods  in  stalls, 
like  large  cupboards.  They  sit  cross-legged  in  the  doors, 
which  are  like  our  store-shutters,  while  men  and  animals 
buy  and  bray  in  the  streets.  Each  shop  usually  deals  in 
but  one  article.  One  has  coffee,  another  rice,  another 
olives,  another  pipes,  etc.  The  variety  of  costumes  and 
faces,  added  to  the  loud  roar  of  the  noisy  multitude,  at 
first  produces  an  effect  almost  bewildering.  On  almost 
every  street-corner  donkeys  wait  for  a  rider.  With 
labor  we  worm  our  way  through  the  multitude  of  men 
and  animals.  Ethiopians,  Turks,  and  Franks,  are  all 
jostled  together.  All  look  sad  and  surly.  One-fourth 
of  the  crowd  are  half  or  wholly  blind.  Now  and  then 
wo  meet  a  Consul  or  Pasha,  with  a  line  of  attendants  cut¬ 
ting  and  scolding  a  passage  through  the  dense  mass. 
Then  some  mounted  official  worms  his  way  through  the 
jam,  on  a  noble  Arab  horse,  preceded  by  a  runner,  who 
shouts  his  name  to  the  crowd,  and  tells  them  how  much 
they  should  honor  and  make  way  for  him.  Here  a  fat, 
puffing  epicure  comes  swaggering  along,  followed  by  a 
pipe-bearer,  carrying  his  master’s  chibouque  after  him, 
4 


38 


FEMALES  OF  CAIRO. 


SO  that  he  can  smoke  when  he  takes  a  fancy.  There  goes 
a  string  of  females,  the  wives  of  a  Moslem.  A  number  of 
black  eunuchs,  with  faces  blank  and  emotionless,  attend 
and  watch  them.  Veiled  women,  wrapped  in  linen  white 
as  snow,  face  and  all ;  others  in  black  or  yellow  silk, 
shuffle  clumsily  along,  pretending  to  avoid  our  gaze. 
Here  and  there  a  veiled  head  moves  above  the  crowd ; 
as  it  approaches  you  discover  that  it  belongs  to  a  woman, 
^  riding  astride  a  donkey,  after  the  fashion  of  men.  But 
the  great  bulk  of  females  in  this  hive,  whose  faces  are  not 
hid,  are  distressingly  filthy,  ragged,  haggard,  and  coarse- 
featured  ;  all  dressed  in  dirty  blue  garments,  loosely 
thrown  around  them,  with  faces  half  or  wholly  unveiled. 
Little  blear-eyed  children  are  perched  astride  a  shoulder 
of  the  mother,  holding  fast  to  her  head,  while  she  trudges 
along  as  if  unconscious  of  her  load.  Isaiah  49  :  22. 
‘‘And  thy  daughters  shall  be  carried  on  their  shoulders.’* 
Still  a  custom  in  the  East.  Blind  men  grope  along  the 
swarming  streets,  feeling  for  the  walls  of  the  houses  to 
guide  them,  crying,  “  buckshish,  buckshish,”  (a  gift,  a 
gift,)  while  their  vacant  eyeballs  stare  skyward.  As  un¬ 
seen  strangers  drop  a  para  into  their  hands,  they  invoke 
the  Prophet’s  blessing  upon  the  merciful.  While  gazing 
at  these  blind  beggars,  a  shriek  of  distress  startles  me. 
Oh,  for  pity  !  There  is  a  poor  man  cringing  in  the  corner 
of  a  merchant’s  stall,  like  a  dog  beneath  the  lash  of  his 
master,  while  another  one  beats  him  with  a  stick.  He 
cries  with  a  loud  voice  for  help,  as  if  every  bone  in  his 
body  were  about  to  break,  but  the  crowd  passes  him 
unheeded  by. 

At  Cairo  the  bazaars  are  already  alive  with  a  busy 
crowd  at  sunrise,  except  during  the  month  of  Bamadan, 
the  Lent  of  the  Mahommedans.  Most  of  the  business  is 


CAIRO  AT  NIGHT. 


39 


transacted  in  the  morning.  Many  of  the  shops  are  closed 
at  noon.  In  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  the  crowd  thins 
away  ;  the  rush  and  roar  become  a  faint  hum  ;  and  by 
nightfall  the  swarm  has  receded  into  the  hive. 

The  government  allows  none  to  go  out  after  night  with¬ 
out  a  lantern.  Persons  of  rank  have  runners  preceding 
their  horses,  carrying  pine  torches  on  the  top  of  a  pole 
in  an  iron  grating.  The  red  flame  blazing  up  fiery  smoke, 
dashed  through  the  dark  streets,  and  followed  by  the 
pompous  train  of  some  nabob,  helps  to  form  a  picturesque 
scene.  During  the  hot  weather  most  people  sleep  in  the 
open  air,  some  on  housetops,  servants  in  court-yards,  and 
many  poor  people  sleep  in  open  places  and  the  courts  of 
mosques.  At  ten  we  take  a  guide  with  a  lantern  to  see 
the  night  of  Cairo.  The  city  asleep  is  silent  as  the 
grave.  Not  the  whisper  of  a  sound  is  heard  far  or  near. 
Not  even  the  baying  of  a  watch-dog.  I  thought  the 
trees  we  passed  might  have  shaken  their  leaves  a  little. 
But  leaves  w^ere  as  silent  as  the  stars  above  them.  We 
paused  a  moment.  It  was  so  quiet  that  silence  itself 
seemed  audible.  Twice  we  heard  a  faint,  muttering  sound, 
which  we  traced  to  soldiers  on  guard,  leaning  against 
the  wall  of  a  house,  half  asleep.  We  saw  no  lighted  win¬ 
dow  or  lattice.  Darkness,  “  Egyptian  darkness,”  reigned 
everywhere.  It  was  a  relief  to  get  out  of  our  uncertain 
gropings.  While  looking  out  into  the  dark,  thick  night 
of  Egypt,  I  had  always  to  think  of  that  darkness  that 
could  “be  felt,”  which  once  enshrouded  this  region. 
Ex.  10  :  21.  “Night  lustre  gives  to  stars.”  What  a  charm¬ 
ing  canopy  overarches  the  night !  Our  own  familiar  stars 
paid  us  their  nightly  visits.  The  Dipper  and  the  north 
star  looked  large  and  beautifully  bright.  But  their  light 


40 


FILTH  Y  STRE:^TS. 


had  no  communion  with  our  darkness,  — it  only  made  it 
darker. 

We  took  a  stroll  through  the  by-streets  one  afternoon, 
which  are  excessively  desolate  and  filthy.  The  houses, 
mostly  of  unburnt  brick,  look  like  mud  heaps,  so  low  that 
the  grown  inmates  must  stoop  through  the  doors,  and 
often  cannot  stand  erect  within.  Without  floors,  they 
sleep  and  eat  on  the  bare,  dusty  ground,  alive  with  all  ^ 
manner  of  creeping  things.  Lean,  hungry,  boisterous 
dogs  everywhere  annoyed  us,  ready  to  eat  any  thing, 
living  or  dead,  that  happened  to  fall  in  their  way.  We 
kept  them  off  our  persons  by  an  occasional  volley  of 
stones,  and  so  roved  through  interminable,  narrow  streets, 
and  vegetable  bazaars,  reeking  with  filth ;  peeped  into 
mosques,  and  watched  the  devout  Moslem  at  his  evening 
prayers.  As  usual  in  such  cases,  we  were  lost.  It  was 
nearly  sunset,  and  our  ignorance  of  the  language  and  the 
city  made  our  return  to  known  quarters  rather  a  serious 
problem.  Finally,  we  turned  up  in  the  country,  about  a 
mile  from  our  hotel. 

The  better  classes  have  more  commodious  dwellings. 
Many  of  the  houses  are  two  and  three  stories  high. 
Each  story  projects  over  the  one  below  it,  until  the  roofs 
almost  meet.  The  fronts  look  bald  and  gloomy.  Some 
have  lattice  windows  on  the  second  floor  —  holes  nailed 
up  with  cross-laths.  Often  you  can  see  the  caged  women 
of  the  harem  peeping  through  the  lattice  on  the  passers 
below.  The  different  districts  of  the  city  are  separated 
by  gates  at  the  end  of  their  streets.  These  are  closed 
after  night,  and  watched  by  long-bearded  old  men,  who  will 
open  their  gates  for  a  small  coin.  Low,  narrow  door¬ 
ways  lead  into  streets,  little  wider  than  themselves, 
where  no  conveyance  above  a  donkey  can  pass.  In  some 


GRAND  MOSQUE  OF  CAIRO. 


41 


streets  persons  on  horseback  find  it  difificult  to  pass  each 
other. 

The  famous  citadel  of  Cairo  is  on  an  adjoining 
hill,  overlooking  the  city.  Here  is  the  so-called  well 
of  Joseph,  said  to  be  275  feet  deep.  A  broad  winding 
staircase  is  cut  through  the  solid  rock  around  the  shaft. 
Half-way  down,  two  oxen  draw  water  by  a  wheel  and 
buckets  from  the  bottom,  into  a  cistern  dug  here. 
From  here  again  it  is  raised  to  the  top  by  another 
wheel. 

The  grand  mosque  near  the  citadel  is  by  far  the  most 
splendid  of  all  the  numerous  mosques  in  Cairo.  We 
were  asked  to  leave  our  shoes  at  the  entrance  of  the 
court,  and  thrust  our  feet  into  slippers.  A  large  dome 
rises  out  of  a  circle  of  smaller  ones  all  lined  with  gilded 
mosaic.  The  walls  and  pilasters  are  coated  with  polished 
alabaster.  The  whole  looks  more  like  one  of  those  gor¬ 
geous  fairy-castles  in  Eastern  tales,  than  a  real,  actual 
building.  The  floor  and  walls  are  all  bare,  save  a  few 
mats  at  one  end,  on  which  devout  Moslems  were  engaged 
in  evening  prayers.  It  appears  like  a  gutted  Cathedral ; 
without  an  altar,  it  lacks  sacrificial  furniture,  symbolical 
of  that  shedding  of  blood  without  which  there  is  no 
remission.’’  From  the  brow  of  this  hill,  the  whole  city 
with  its  three  hundred  mosques  and  minarets  spread  out 
to  our  view.  On  three  sides  the  bleak  desert  presses 
up  to  its  walls,  the  fourth  is  green  and  joyous,  with  vast 
meadows  and  groves. 

Ail  mosques  (Mohammedan  temples)  are  uniformly 
arranged  in  a  very  simple  style.  First  you  enter  a 
square  court  or  yard,  with  a  well  or  fountain  in  the 
centre.  A  cupola  rises  over  it  on  four  columns.  Here 
all  perform  their  ablutions  before  they  engage  in  wor- 

4  ♦ 


42 


MOHAMMEDAN  DEVOTIONS. 


ship,  according  to  the  instruction  of  the  Koran.  ‘‘  0,  true 
believers,  when  ye  prepare  yourselves  to  pray,  wash  your 
faces  and  your  hands  unto  the  elbows  ;  and  rub  your  heads 
and  your  feet  unto  the  ankles.”  In  a  corner  of  the  mosque, 
towards  Mecca,  a  number  of  columns  form  an  arcade. 
Here  there  is  a  niche  in  the  wall,  towards  which  all  the 
faithful  turn  their  faces,  just  as  the  Jews  prayed  with 
their  faces  toward  Jerusalem.  Daniel  6  :  10.  Near  this 
is  the  pulpit  for  the  preacher,  and  aside  of  it  a  reading 
stand,  for  the  reading  of  the  Koran  and  prayer.  As 
perhaps  not  one  in  twenty  can  read,  or  I  might  say  not 
one  in  fifty,  the  Koran  is  read  almost  every  day  in  some 
mosques.  The  walls  abound  with  numerous  inscriptions 
from  the  Koran,  iiiscribed  in  various  colors.  Parts  of 
the  floor  are  covered  with  straw  mats,  on  which  the  wor¬ 
shippers  perform  their  devotions.  These  require  a  va¬ 
riety  of  postures,  standing,  kneeling,  prostration,  touch¬ 
ing  the  floor  or  ground  with  the  forehead,  smiting  the 
breast,  and  bending  the  body  forward  at  right  angles  with 
the  ground.  They  never  pray  on  the  bare  ground  or 
floor,  and  never  with  their  shoes  or  sandals  on.  When  not 
in  the  mosque,  they  always  spread  their  coarse  outer 
garments  on  the  ground.  The  minarets  are  tall  columns 
at  the  entrance  of  the  mosque,  built  with  alternate  layers 
of  red  and  white  stone.  Near  the  top  is  a  railing  around 
the  outside,  from  which  the  muezzin,  or  herald,  calls  to 
prayers,  who  performs  the  same  office  as  the  bell  in  the 
Christian  church.  Blind  persons  are  mostly  chosen  for 
this  office.  The  gentler  sex  in  the  East  seldom  get  be¬ 
yond  the  walls  of  their  own  house  or  harem.  Here  they 
have  everything  their  own  way,  with  any  number  of 
eunuchs  to  do  their  bidding.  But  woe  betide  the  man 
that  steals  a  peep  into  their  mysterious  cage,  either  from 


THE  CALL  TO  PRAYER. 


43 


heaven  above  or  from  the  earth  beneath.  They  spend 
much  of  their  time  on  housetops,  and  in  the  open,  uncov¬ 
ered  court  within  their  houses.  The  minarets  command 
a  view  into  all  the  back  yards  of  Cairo ;  hence  the  blind 
muezzin,  whose  sightless  sockets  can  never  profane  the 
domestic  domain  of  woman. 

The  Mohammedan  day  begins  at  sunset,  which  is  their 
first  hour  of  prayer.  The  second  is  about  two  hours 
later ;  the  third  is  at  dawn ;  the  fourth  at  noon,  the  most 
important,  at  which  the  Sultan  attends  the  mosque 
at  Constantinople ;  the  fifth  is  at  3  p.  M.  Five  times 
a  day  the  muezzin  mounts  the  minaret  and  calls  to 
prayer.  In  the  morning  he  cries :  “  God  is  great !  I 
show  you  that  there  is  no  god  but  God !  I  show  you 
that  Mohammed  is  the  prophet  of  God !  Come  to 
prayers  !  Come  to  your  refuge  !  Prayer  is  better  than 
sleep  !  God  is  great !”  Then  you  can  see  many  wend¬ 
ing  their  way  to  the  mosque.  Others  spread  their  toga 
on  the  housetop,  others  in  the  field  or  by  the  way.  JSTo 
matter  what  they  are  doing  or  where  they  are,  when  the 
hour  of  prayer  arrives  the  faithful  will  pray.  On  the 
crowded  steamers  of  the  Mediterranean  and  the  Red  Sea, 
they  are  as  regularly  devout  as  their  brethren  at  Cairo 
or  Damascus.  I  was  lying  snugly  in  our  tent  at  Akaba, 
when  a  muttering  noise  woke  me  at  break  of  day.  I 
raised  the  curtain,  and  saw  a  Turk  bowing  and  kneeling 
on  his  toga,  amid  a  cluster  of  palms.  On  Mount  Zion  I 
was  in  a  banking-room,  right  at  the  edge  of  Hezekiah’s 
pool,  when  the  herald  cried  ‘‘to  prayers’’  from  a  neigh¬ 
boring  minaret.  The  banker,  in  the  presence  of  the 
bystanders,  spread  his  coat  on  the  counter  and  performed 
his  devotions.  One  night  we  encamped  on  the  banks  of 
a  brook  in  Galilee,  in  sight  of  the  waters  of  Merom. 


I 


44 


THE  DERVISHES. 


The  sheikh  of  a  neighboring  village  stopped  at  sunset 
near  our  tent,  on  his  homeward  way,  stuck  his  spear  in 
the  ground,  dismounted,  performed  his  ablutions  at  the 
running  brook,  then  spread  his  toga  on  the  hank,  and 
worshipped  his  Maker.  I  cannot  vouch  for  the  sincerity 
of  their  motives,  but  their  fearless,  unswerving  fidelity 
to  their  religion,  which  makes  everything  bend  and  suc¬ 
cumb  to  its  claims,  extorted  from  me  a  respect  which  I 
felt  ill  prepared  to  award. 

The  dervishes  are  an  order  of  Moslem  monks,  famous 
for  their  rigid  austerities  and  frantic  zeal.  Their  prin¬ 
cipal  festival  lasts  nine  days,  and  closes  with  a  cruel 
ceremony  called  doseh,  the  trampling.  The  sheikh  of 
the  Saadieh  dervishes  rides  to  the  chief  sheikh  of  all  the 
dervishes  in  Egypt,  El  Bekree.  On  the  way  thither,  a 
great  number  of  these  so-called  holy  people,  and  others 
who  aspire  to  equal  sanctity,  form  a  solid  pavement,  with 
their  bodies  stretched  flat  on  the  ground,  and  their  faces 
downward,  alternately  with  their  feet  and  heads  together. 
The  sheikh  then  rides  over  this  living  carpet  of  human 
bodies,  his  horse  being  led  by  a  servant  on  each  side. 
Each  body,  if  possible,  receives  two  treads.  The  larger 
number  spring  up  again  unhurt.  The  few  that  are  seri¬ 
ously  or  mortally  wounded,  must  bear,  besides  this  ill- 
fortune,  the  disgrace  of  having  neglected  to  say  the 
proper  prayers  the  day  before,  misunderstood  them,  or 
not  having  said  the  charm  formularies,  which  they  think 
are  alone  able  to  protect  them. 

Desirous  of  witnessing  their  so-called  devotions,  we 
repaired  to  a  small  rude  mosque  on  Friday  afternoon. 
We  entered  a  small  court-yard,  with  stone  benches  along 
the  sides  and  in  the  centre.  The  latter  were  shaded  by 
a  tree,  under  whose  branches  the  old  men  were  seated. 


KESPECT  TO  AGE. 


45 


Whenever  a  grey-bearded  veteran  entered  they  all  rose 
to  their  feet.  Some  reverently  kissed  his  hand,  the 
older  embraced  him,  then  offered  him  a  seat  and  a  pipe 
under  the  tree.  “  Thou  shalt  rise  before  the  hoary  head, 
and  honor  the  face  of  the  old  man.”  Lev.  19  :  32.  The 
East  still  retains  its  ancient  reverence  and  respect  for  age. 
With  us,  alas  !  it  is  fast  falling  into  disuse.  It  seems  to 
diminish  as  we  go  westward ;  Europe  has  less  than  the 
East,  but  we  have  least  of  all. 

But  to  our  dervishes.  Coffee  was  handed  to  all,  in 
puny  cups  ;  the  aged  had  the  additional  luxury  of  a 
narghile  (pipe).  The  practice  of  hospitality,  in  connec¬ 
tion  with  religion,  made  up  for  its  lack  of  flavor.  Black, 
bitter,  unsettled,  still  under  the  circumstances  it  was  per¬ 
fectly  delicious.  While  sipping  at  my  unsavory  share,  I 
filled  up  the  pauses  by  viewing  my  fellow-guests.  The 
old  men  were  striking  specimens  of  patriarchal  physiog¬ 
nomies.  Thoughtful  and  silent,  they  sipped  and  puffed. 
The  younger  had  a  vacant  look  about  them.  Some  had 
rimless  high-crowned  hats  on,  shaped  like  a  piece  of 
stove  pipe.  The  leading  dervishes  had  unshorn  hair, 
like  the  Nazarites,  several  feet  long.  The  Nazarites 
never  shaved  so  long  as  their  vows  were  upon  them. 
‘‘All  the  days  of  the  vow  of  his  separation  there  shall 
no  razor  come  upon  his  beard.”  Num.  6  :  5.  Samson 
was  to  be  a  Nazarite  from  his  birth.  “No  razor  shall 
come  on  his  beard.”  Judges  13  :  5.  So  Paul  had  his 
head  unshorn  for  a  season ;  “  for  he  had  a  vow.”  Acts 
18  :  18.  But  the  head,  as  can  be  seen  on  the  monu¬ 
ments,  was  shaved  by  the  Egyptians.  Joseph  “  shaved 
himself”  before  he  came  in  unto  Pharaoh.  Gen.  41  :  14. 

After  musing  mutely  over  our  cups  awhile,  the  faithful 
led  the  way  into  the  small  mosque.  The  walls  were 


46 


WORSHIP  OF  THE  DERVISHES. 


hung  with  Instruments  to  inflict  self-torture.  We  sat  by 
the  wall  on  the  pavement.  At  the  opposite  end  the  old 
sheikh  of  the  Dervishes  took  his  place,  and  soon  some 
twenty  or  thirty  performers  gathered  round  him  in  a 
circle.  He  led  off  like  a  singing  master,  keeping  time 
by  swinging  his  body,  which  motion  all  the  rest  followed  > 
With  a  low,  deep  groan,  they  grunted  ^‘La  illah  illalah” 
(there  is  no  God  but  God).  Their  singing  and  grunts 
became  more  rapid  and  violent,  until  the  whole  circle 
waved  to  and  fro,  and  their  unitM  grunts  formed  a  dead 
inhuman  noise,  which  I  have  no  language  to  describe. 
The  sheikh  made  a  sign,  and  the  raving  suddenly  stopped 
as  if  by  an  enchanter’s  wand.  While  the  frantic  zealots 
panted  for  breath,  'several  commenced  a  noise  on  tambo- 
rines  and  pipes,  following  their  music  with  a  half-dancing 
motion.  Meanwhile,  a  singer  screeched  a  sacred  song 
through  his  nostrils,  making  a  face  full  of  agony,  as  if 
in  travail  with  music.  Soon  the  circle  was  formed  again. 
With  a  drawling  groan,  they  slung  their  bodies  back  and 
forward,  the  face  almost  touching  the  knees,  then  bend¬ 
ing  the  head  back  on  the  spine.  Some  shook  hands, 
others  threw  their  garments  aside,  till  nothing  was  left 
but  a  light  sash  around  the  waist.  They  became  louder 
and  faster,  still  with  measured  quickness,  groaning,  “  Il¬ 
lah,”  “ha  hu.”  One  soul  seemed  to  move  the  whole 
circle.  The  sweat  gushed  out  of  every  pore ;  their  long 
dishevelled  hair  flew  like  loose  sails  in  a  storm,  burying 
their  faces  ;  the  scene  grew  wilder,  until  some  commenced 
to  reel  and  sink  to  the  floor.  It  was  like  a  gathering  of 
demoniacs.  —  The  old  man  waved  his  wand,  the  scene 
suddenly  became  like  the  sea  after  a  storm ;  the  waves 
continued  after  the  storm  had  ceased.  He  could  stop 
the  wheels,  but  the  momentum  would  carry  the  body  on 


THE  PASH  a’ S  GARDENS. 


47 


in  its  motion.  They  panted  and  gasped  for  breath ; 
their  mouths  frothed,  and  their  eyes  stared  fearfully.  One 
beat  his  breast  with  clenched  fists ;  another  yelled  and 
whooped ;  another  dashed  his  forehead  against  the  wall, 
and  rebounded  senseless  to  the  fioor.  He  left  a  mark 
on  the  wall,  but  none  on  his  head.  Another  one  threw 
himself  on  him  till  his  raving  was  over.  A  feeling  of 
horror  crept  over  me;  the  whole  ceremony  was  such 
a  frightful  caricature  of  worship,"  that  it  seemed  more 
like  the  worship  of  the  Devil  than  of  God.  There  were 
no  females  present,  save  a  few  forbidden  spectators,  who 
stood  on  an  adjoining  housetop,  and  stole  a  view  through 
a  broken  window  near  the  roof  of  the  mosque.  These 
dervishes  are  mostly  supported  by  the  wealthy,  who  are 
great  admirers  of  their  frantic  fanaticism. 

Feh.  23c?.  This  afternoon,  we  rode  to  Shoobra,  four 
miles  from  Cairo,  to  see  the  Pasha’s  gardens.  The  way 
led  through  a  continuous  arbor  of  sycamore  and  acacia 
trees.  We  met  large  flocks  of  donkeys  bearing  skins  of 
water,  and  camels  laden  with  grass  and  wood.  At  the 
entrance  of  the  gardens  we  were  accosted  by  several 
self-appointed  servants,  ready  to  do  our  bidding.  We 
were  given  to  understand  that  visitors  were  forbidden  to 
touch  or  taste  any  fruit.  But  they  soon  brought  their 
unsolicited  store  of  luscious  fruit  in  the  hope  of  getting 
a  few  piastres.  Peach  and  apricot  trees  were  in  full 
bloom.  Citrons,  lemons,  and  blood-oranges  were  ripe, 
of  which  we  got  a  bountiful  share.  The  air  was  freighted 
with  sweet  odors ;  the  birds  sang  to  each  other  from  ’ 
every  tree-top ;  and  while  a  few  heavy  rain-drops  fell  on 
the  dust,  like  drops  of  life,  we  reclined  beneath  a  canopy 
on  soft  divans  around  the  omnipresent  fountain. 

Heliopolis  is  the  On  of  the  Bible,  where  Joseph  got 


4b  RUINS  OF  HELIOPOLlo. 

his  wife.  Gen.  41  :  45.  Our  way  thither  led  us  about 
an  hour  and  a  half  in  a  north-eastern  direction,  along 
the  edge  of  the  desert.  This  ancient  metropolis  of  the 
Egyptian  priesthood,  consists  at  present  of  a  series  of 
mounds  —  heaps  of  earth  —  covered  debris  and  ruins. 
Some  of  them  are  ancient  walls,  resembling  great  ram¬ 
parts  of  earth ;  others  perform  the  office  of  thriving 
gardens.  Grass,  grain,  and  trees,  bending  with  fruit, 
grow  in  almost  wild  luxuriance  over  the  tombs,  temples, 
walls,  and  buried  mysteries  of  Egypt’s  religion.  To 
this  city,  doubtless,  the  prophet  refers  when  speaking  of 
the  latter-day,  spiritual  glory  of  Egypt :  “  In  that  day 
shall  five  cities  in  the  land  of  Egypt  speak  the  language 
of  Canaan,  and  swear  to  the  Lord  of  hosts ;  On  shall 
be  called  the  city  of  destruction  (in  the  margin,  the  city 
of  the  Sun,  or  Heliopolis).”  Here  on  the  edge  of  Egypt 
and  the  desert,  was  the  centre  of  Egypt’s  religious  wor¬ 
ship  and  sacrifices.  And  so  it  shall  be  again.  ‘‘  In  that 
day  shall  there  be  an  altar  to  the  Lord  in  the  midst  of 
the  land  of  Egypt,  and  a  pillar  at  the  border  thereof  to 
the  Lord''  Isaiah  19  :  18-19. 

In  a  garden  near  the  city  is  an  ancient  sycamore, 
with  two  thick  limbs  and  a  very  large  gnarled  trunk. 
Tradition  says  Mary  and  Joseph,  with  the  infant  Jesus, 
rested  under  this  tree  on  their  flight  to  Egypt.  As  they 
tarried  at  least  two  years  in  Egypt,  and  as,  according  to 
Josephus,  there  was  a  city  of  Egyptian  Jews  near  Helio¬ 
polis,  with  a  Jewish  temple,  it  is  not  impossible  that  the 
holy  family  visited  this  city ;  but  that  they  rested  under 
this  very  tree  is  not  so  easily  determined.  I  felt  plea¬ 
sure,  however,  in  thinking  that  my  eyes,  for  the  first 
time,  may  have  rested  on  a  landscape  which  our  Lord 
and  the  Virgin  beheld.  Josephus  says,  Pharaoh  gave 


TEMPLE  OF  THE  SUN. 


49 


Jacob  leave  to  live  with  his  children  in  Heliopolis  ;  for 
in  that  city  the  King’s  shepherds  had  their  pasturage.” 

In  the  gardens  covering  the  city  are  two  relics  of  the 
great  Temple  of  the  Sun,  the  highpriest  of  which  was 
“Potiphar,  priest  of  On,”  the  father-in-law  of  Joseph. 
Gen.  41  :  50.  Afterwards,  the  teacher  of  Moses  was  its 
highpriest.  One  of  these  relics  is  a  pool,  with  willows 
and  rank  herbage  around  its  borders.  The  other  is  a 
solitary  obelisk,  rising  out  of  a  garden  of  shrubbery. 
It  was  erected  by  King  Sesurtesen  I.,  2300  years  before 
Christ.  It  is,  by  far,  the  most  ancient  of  all  known 
obelisks.  This  was  the  first  one  I  saw  on  the  spot  where 
it  was  originally  erected.  A  vast  profusion  of  fiowers  in 
these  gardens  attracted  swarms  of  busy  bees,  which 
have  piled  their  stores  over  the  hieroglyphics  inscribed 
on  it,  until  they  have  become  buried  like  the  neighbor¬ 
ing  palaces  and  temple. 

This  city,  in  its  glory,  “  prided  itself  in  possessing, 
next  to  Thebes,  the  most  learned  body  of  priests.” 
Learning,  among  the  ancient  Egyptians,  was  confined  to 
the  caste  of  the  priesthood.  Even  kings  had  to  become 
priests,  before  they  could  be  initiated  into  the  mysteries 
of  their  wisdom  and  learning.  Mahommedan  tradition 
says  that  Moses  had  been  a  pagan  priest  before  he  fled 
from  Egypt.  As  he  had  become  the  adopted  son  of  the 
king’s  daughter,  this  tradition  may  be  true.  To  have  been 
a  priest  in  the  Egyptian  religion,  is  not  derogatory  to  the 
character  of  Moses.  It  formed  part  of  his  schooling 
for  the  solemn  duties  of  the  Jewish  lawgiver.  Here  he 
laid  the  foundation  of  his  learning,  for  ‘‘  Moses  was 
learned  in  all  the  wisdom  of  the  Egyptians.”  Acts  7  : 
22.  One  almost  feels  like  lifting  his  hat  before  this 
stately  granite  column,  which  stands  firm  in  its  ancient 
5  D 


50 


OBELISK  OF  HELIOPOLIS. 


place,  in  spite  of  museurns  and  emperors,  who  have  car¬ 
ried  nearly  all  its  fellows  to  Europe,  still  preaching  of 
the  long,  long  past.  I  had  seen  three  of  its  companions 
in  Rome,  taken  from  here.  It  alone  is  left,  almost  the 
only  landmark  of  the  great  seat  of  Egyptian  wisdom.” 
It  is  the  oldest  obelisk  in  existence,  the  father  of  all  the 
rest.  It  was  raised  a  century  before  Joseph  was  brought 
to  Egypt  by  slave  merchants ;  it  looked  down  on  his 
marriage  with  Asenath ;  Moses  looked  at  its  inscriptions  ; 
Herodotus  speaks  of  it ;  “  and  Plato  sat  under  its 
shadow.” 

The  borders  of  the  desert  are  gradually  rescued  from 
their  barrenness  by  means  of  wells.  The  waters  of  the 
Nile  soak  under  the  surface  where  its  overflowings  do 
not  extend.  By  digging  wells  fifteen  or  twenty  feet 
deep,  they  get  access  to  its  waters,  the  great  fertilizer 
of  Egypt.  The  power  of  Nile  water  over  the  desert  is 
almost  incredible.  Its  touch  in  a  very  short  time  evokes 
vegetable  life  from  the  burning  sand,  and  covers  it  with 
luxuriant  verdure ;  it  converts  the  desert  into  a  fruitful 
fleld,  like  ‘‘the  garden  of  the  Lord.”  The  “fountain 
opened  in  the  house  of  David,”  sends  forth  a  stream  like 
the  life-bearing  Nile.  Wherever  its  waters  extend,  “  the 
wilderness  and  the  solitary  place  shall  be  glad  for  them ; 
and  the  desert  shall  rejoice  and  blossom  as  the  rose.” 
Isaiah  35  :  1. 

Near  our  hotel  was  one  of  the  Pasha’s  palaces,  where 
his  daughter  furnished  a  series  of  festivities  during  our 
sojourn  in  Cairo.  The.  street  before  the  palace  was 
spanned  with  a  large  canvass,  under  which  hung  chande¬ 
liers,  and  lamps  were  pendent  from  ropes  stretched  along 
the  side  of  it.  Musicians  were  there  in  the  street,  all  day 
long,  in  grey  grotesque  garments,  with  coins  hung  around 


THE  pasha’s  harem. 


51 


the  breast,  and  long  jewelled  tassels  dangling  around 
their  loins.  A  screeching  fiddle,  untuned  and  unstrung, 
small  drums  and  single  drum  heads,  and  tamborines  and 
pipes,  sounding  like  willow  pipes ;  all  fiddled,  piped, 
thumped,  and  drummed,  each  extemporaneously  on  his 
own  hook,  without  regard  to  time  or  tune ;  meanwhile 
themselves  dancing  to  their  excruciating  discords.  These 
wild  fandangoes  were  kept  up  for  several  days,  to  the 
amusement  of  thousands  of  spectators.  One  afternoon 
the  Pasha’s  carriages  hauled  women  to  the  palace.  An 
army  of  eunuchs  received  the  fair  ones  at  the  door.  Their 
features  were  hid  beneath  a  profusion  of  silk,  so  that  no 
one  could  see  whether  they  were  joyful  or  sad.  To  an 
uninterested  spectator  the  whole  alfair  seemed  sullen  and 
dreary.  These  mufiled,  silent  women  keep  one  thinking  all 
the  while  of  apparitions.  As  they  alighted  they  w^ere 
softly  hurried  away  from  the  vulgar  gaze  of  the  rabble 
by  the  mysterious  looking  eunuchs. 

Of  course  the  sterner  sex  were  entirely  excluded.  A 
female  friend  was  present,  who  afterwards  reported  the 
proceedings  to  me.  Some  of  the  younger  women  pos¬ 
sessed  the  charms  of  natural  beauty ;  others  seemed 
withering  with  the  blight  of  jealousy,  and  the  half-sup¬ 
pressed  torture  of  a  forced  love ;  some  were  silent  and 
sad  with  untold  repressed  grief.  The  prettiest  were 
slaves,  whom  their  masters  had  bought  for  wives.  Brace¬ 
lets  and  coronets,  studded  with  glittering  pearls  and 
costly  diamonds,  reflected  the  brilliant  light  of  splendid 
chandeliers  in  many  colors.  They  seemed  totally  igno¬ 
rant  of  everything  beyond  their  toilette.  Some  fa¬ 
miliarly  plucked  my  friend’s  dress ;  asked  how  Frank 
‘ladies  were  treated  by  their  husbands,  and  how  they  got 
along  with  only  one. 


52 


HOTELS  IN  EGYPT. 


The  few  so-called  hotels  in  Egypt  are  only  for  travel¬ 
lers, —  Europeans  and  Americans.  Eastern  travellers 
usually  herd  together  in  khans  or  ‘^inns”  for  their  night 
quarters,  where  man  and  beast  share  a  common  bed. 
The  accommodations  at  Shepherd’s  Hotel  were  quite 
tolerable  for  Egypt,  but  egregiously  dear.  The  British 
India  travellers  passing  through  here  twice  a  week,  and 
an  unusual  number  of  tourists  on  hand  this  spring,  gave 
our  rotund  host  more  than  his  usual  share  of  custom. 
There  was  enough  on  his  table,  but  the  diflSculty  was  to 
get  at  it.  The  few  servants  he  had  were  indolent,  slow, 
and  stupid,  so  that  one  had  to  be  wide  awake,  and  withal 
somewhat  rude,  to  get  his  due  share. 

At  the  urgent  recommendation  of  a  friend,  we  removed 
our  quarters  to  Old  Cairo,  four  miles  from  the  city.  Our 
new  host  was  an  obliging,  clever  fellow,  Antonio  —  some¬ 
body, — who  gave  us  the  best  he  had.  We  were  here  on 
the  banks  of  the  Nile,  where  we  heard  the  croaking  of 
frogs,  such  as  infested  the  ‘‘houses,”  “ovens,”  and 
“  kneading-troughs  ”  of  Pharaoh’s  subjects.  Screens 
were  stretched  over  our  couches  to  keep  out  musquitoes, 
but  they  buzzed  and  bored  their  way  through  the  gauze, 
and  pitched  into  their  victims  with  half-famished  avidity. 
Fleas  and  the  third  plague  of  Egypt  came  to  their  aid. 
Their  combined  attacks  banishing  repose  from  our  pil¬ 
lows,  we  filled  up  the  sleepless  intervals  of  impatient 
resistance  with  comments  on  this  busy  progeny  of  the 
plagues.  Finally  our  illustrative  experiments  proving 
more  instructive  than  agreeable,  we  kissed  and  waved 
the  hand  to  our  obliging  friend  Antonio,  and  beat  a  hasty 
retreat  on  our  donkeys  to  Shepherd’s,  leaving  a  spring 
hat  and  a  pair  of  pinching  Neapolitan  boots  as  trophies 
for  our  pestering  persecutors.  Such  a  universe  of  ver- 


NOTING  VERMIN. 


53 


min  as  Egypt  contains,  few  countries  can  furnisli.  Men 
and  animals,  dogs,  donkeys,  and  the  dust  in  the  street, 
are  alive  with  them.  It  is  amusing  to  see  how  patiently 
the  filthier  classes  scrape  and  scratch  them  from  their 
persons.  The  donkey  boy,  running  after  his  employer, 
suddenly  stops  in  the  way  to  rid  himself  of  the  pain  ; 
sometimes  I  caught  him  sitting  alone  and  searching  his 
scanty  garments  for  his  assailants.  Old  and  young  sit 
in  the  hot  sun,  on  the  dust  before  their  doors,  hunting 
'^ermin.  It  may  seem  a  singular  destiny  to  spend  much 
time  seriously  in  such  pursuits,  but  the  poor  Egyptian 
would  gain  a  glorious  end  if  he  could  exterminate  his 
incessant  tormentors. 

Boarding  at  hotels,  the  tourist  does  not  get  many 
dishes  peculiarly  Egyptian.  Long  shall  I  remember  one 
called  pilau,  composed  of  mutton,  rice,  and  burning 
quantities  of  cayenne  pepper.  It  had  a  very  relishable 
appearance,  and  as  our  dinner  hour  was  after  sunset,  the 
appetite  had  time  to  sharpen  for  a  spoon  or  two  of  this 
pepper  sauce. 


5^ 


54 


CROSSING  THE  NILE. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


Sih. 


Feh.  24.  —  This  morning  at  8,  we  started  for  Mem¬ 
phis  and  the  Pyramids  of  Sakharah.  A  charming  morning 
it  was,  as  all  mornings  are  here.  When  the  ferrymen, 
at  the  lower  end  of  Old  Cairo,  saw  us  approaching,  they 
commenced  the  usual  deafening  clamor.  Our  interpre¬ 
ter  tried  to  hire  a  boat,  and  vainly  strove  to  be  heard 
at  the  top  of  his  voice.  Finally,  he  spoke  with  the  aid 
of  a  cane,  and  dealt  one  a  severe  blow,  which  sent  him 
into  a  frothing  rage.  He  followed  us  to  the  other  side, 
threatened  vengeance,  jumped  and  tilted  about  like  a 
man  possessed,  and  heaped  on  us  many  of  the  ugly  epi¬ 
thets  which  the  Moslem  vocabulary  has  for  ‘infidels.*’ 
The  boats  were  large  clumsy  affairs  for  ferry-boats, 
with  lateen  sails  hung  from  a  lofty  pole.  I  was  not  with¬ 
out  misgivings  as  I  mounted  the  shoulders  of  a  stout 
Arab,  who  carried  me  through  the  Nile  on  to  his  craft.  The 
donkeys  were  taken  by  the  hind-legs,  and  steered  through 
the  water  and  over  the  side  of  the  boat,  after  the  manner 
of  a  wheelbarrow.  I  felt  a  pleasant  relief  when  our  bark 
floated  away  from  the  riotous  mob.  We  disembarked  at 
Gliizeh  on  the  opposite  shore.  After  threading  along 
through  a  devious  alley  about  four  feet  wide,  we  came 
into  a  square,  in  the  centre  of  the  village,  where  there 
was  a  grain  market.  Large  heaps  of  wheat  and  barley 


EGYPTIAN  DOGS. 


55 


were  lying  about  on  the  bare  ground,  —  doubtless  the 
same  kind  of  wheat  as  that  which  the  brethren  of  Joseph 
came  to  buy.  Still,  many  “  go  down  to  buy  grain  in 
Egypt.” 

We  rode  over  causeways  —  roads  raised  on  embank¬ 
ments,  to  evade  the  inundations  of  the  Nile.  In  every 
village  we  w^ere  hailed  by  the  bowlings  of  a  herd  of  half- 
starved  dogs,  lean  as  the  kine  in  Pharaoh’s  dream,  and 
with  as  capacious  appetites.  Every  city  and  village 
abounds  with  this  canine  nuisance.  They  seem  to  live 
on  the  filth  and  ofial  of  the  streets.  After  commencing 
our  tent-life,  we  had  to  watch  them  like  Bedouin  robbers. 
They  would  steal  into  the  cook’s  tent,  and  our  faithful 
Mahornmed  flung  many  a  club  and  stone  at  them  to  keep 
their  paw  out  of  the  pan.  After  night  they  prowled 
around  our  tents  with  thievish  looks,  and  an  occasional 
howl.  David  says  his  enemies  “  return  at  evening : 
they  make  a  noise  like  a  dog  and  go  round  about  the 
city.”  Psalm  59  :  6.  Their  hair  all  seemed  to  stand  on 
end,  — scabby,  canine  wolves,  hated  and  kicked  by  every¬ 
body.  The  streets  are  filled  with  beatings  and  bowlings 
brought  on  by  their  thefts.  No  wonder  that  the  ancients, 
like  the  moderns,  shunned  them  as  a  mean,  filthy  beast. 
When  a  man  was  mean  and  contemptible,  he  was  com¬ 
pared  to  a  dog.  ‘‘  Is  thy  servant  a  dog,”  replied  Haz^el 
to  Elisha’s  prophecy  of  his  cruelty.  2  Kings  8  :  13. 
Abishai  said  to  David,  “  Why  should  this  dead  dog  curse 
my  Lord  the  King?  ”  2  Sam.  16  ;  9. 

The  houses  were  all  built  of  unburnt  brick,  with  little 
holes  for  doors,  and  were  innocent  of  floor  and  furniture. 
The  roofs  consisted  of  branches  and  rubbish  covered  with 
mud.  Some  of  their  occupants  were  stretched  before 
their  doors,  roasting  in  the  sun.  Groups  of  dirty  men 


56 


BRICK  MAKING  IN  EGYPT. 


and  women,  and  children  almost  naked,  sat  along  their 
mud-like  walls,  as  if  existence  were  a  burden  to  them. 
The  scarcity  of  rain  produces  great  quantities  of  dust. 
In  streets  and  houses  it  abounds,  and  the  feathery  tops 
of  palm  trees  are  grey  with  it.  So  it  was  when  God 
commanded  Aaron,  saying,  “  Stretch  out  thy  rod,  and 
smite  the  dust  of  the  land,  that  it  may  become  lice 
throughout  all  the  land  of  Egypt.”  Exodus  8  : 16.  When 
the  land  was  cursed  with  the  drought  it  was  said,  “  The 
Lord  shall  make  the  rain  of  the  land  powder  and  dust.” 
Deut.  28  :  24.  At  several  villages  they  were  making 
brick,  mixing  Nile  mud  with  short  ‘‘  straw,”  and  drying 
them  in  the  sun,  just  as  the  Jews  did  in  the  days  of 
Moses.  The  largest  houses  are  built  of  these  unburnt 
brick.  This  was  near  Memphis,  the  city  of  the  Pharaohs, 
where  the  task-masters  were  told,  ‘‘Ye  shall  no  more 
give  the  people  straw  to  make  brick,”  so  they  had  to 
“gather  straw  for  themselves.”  Ex.  5  :  7.  But  why  use 
straw  ?  For  the  same  reason  that  plasterers  use  hair  in 
the  plaster,  to  cause  the  clay  to  cohere.  Lepsius  says : 
“  The  black  brick  made  of  Nile  mud,  and  dried  in  the 
sun,  apparently  the  most  perishable  material,  have  not 
unfrequently  been  preserved  in  the  open  air  for  thou¬ 
sands  of  years,  in  the  form  in  which  they  were  built  up, 
and  with  their  coating  of  plaster.”  He  mentions  the 
ruins  of  a  brick-built  temple  at  Thebes,  over  3000  years 
old,  and  in  a  tolerable  state  of  preservation.  In  the  north¬ 
ern  part  of  Egypt,  where  the  atmosphere  is  more  damp 
and  the  weather  more  changeable,  they  would  not  last 
so  long. 

Our  road  led  us  through  a  region  supposed  to  have 
been  partly  inhabited  and  worked  by  Hebrews.  The 
whole  Nile  plain,  viewed  at  a  distance,  was  like  one  con- 


CATACOMBS  OF  THE  PESERT. 


57 


tinuous  meadow.  The  wheat  was  just  coming  into  heads. 
Barley  was  nearly  in  bloom.  Herds  of  cattle  were  out 
grazing  in  the  fenceless  fields.  As  we  approached  them, 
the  black  head  of  the  keeper,  with  a  white  turban,  rose 
above  the  grass.  Little  boys  kept  sheep  and  goats. 
While  a  large  camel  was  lying  down,  two  kids  were  skip¬ 
ping  about  on  his  hump.  After  a  few  hours  we  reached 
the  edge  of  the  Lybian  desert.  Deep  sand,  like  vast 
snow-drifts,  everywhere  covers  the  earth,  through  which 
our  little  animals  waded  with  much  labor.  All  vegeta¬ 
tion  suddenly  ceased.  The  waves  of  the  desert  limit  the 
shores  of  this  sea  of  verdure.  Their  yearly  encroach¬ 
ments,  rolled  out  by  desert  winds,  are  driven  back  by 
the  inundations  of  the  Nile,  whose  waters  fertilize  the 
sand  within  their  reach.  But  for  this,  and  the  desert 
would  soon  leave  but  a  narrow  strip  of  fertile  land  along 
the  Nile. 

We  descended  into  several  mummy-pits,  the  catacombs 
of  the  desert.  One  contained  large  sarcophagi,  of 
smoothly  polished  granite.  Others  were  of  black  marble, 
with  numerous  hieroglyphics.  Some  of  these  contain 
the  dust  of  ancient  greatness,  others  of  the  Bull  Apis, 
an  object  of  worship  among  the  old  Egyptians.  Others 
had  chambers  strewn  with  mummies,  in  which  the  dead 
of  3000  and  4000  years  were  wrapped  up  and  embalmed, 
with  their  features  still  retained,  though  shrivelled  like  a 
crisp.  The  sand  was  dry  as  dust  as  far  as  we  descended, 
and  the  air  close  and  hot  as  an  oven.  These  under¬ 
ground  explorations  cost  one  an  immense  deal  of  sweat. 
We  stooped  our  way  through  the  dark  winding  streets 
of  the  dead  of  old,  with  the  aid  of  dim  tapers,  and 
walked  over  places  literally  strewn  with  dead  men’s 
bones ;  perhaps  we  kicked  about  the  skulls  of  ancient 


68 


INSCRIPTIONS  ON  TOMBS. 


‘taskmasters,”  or  of  the  proud  oppressors  of  other  days. 
One  pit  was  filled  with  piles  of  ibis  mummies,  the  white 
sacred  bird  of  Egypt,  preserved  in  jars.  Some  that 
were  broken,  still  contained  their  bones,  perfectly  pre¬ 
served. 

W ere  it  not  for  these  tombs  of  the  old  Egyptians,  little 
of  their  history  would  now  be  known.  Every  great  man 
or  king  had  his  corpse  put  into  a  large  sarcophagus  of 
red  or  black  granite  or  marble,  smoothly  polished,  —  a 
pile  eight  or  ten  feet  high,  and  the  same  in  length.  If 
the  man  had  large  harv^'^ts,  sheaves  and  reapers  are 
carved  on  his  tomb ;  if  many  flocks,  sheep,  cattle,  or 
camels  are  engraved  on  the  stone.  And  so  with  regard 
to  all  the  details  of  his  possessions  and  history.  Thus 
we  learn  more  about  Old  Egypt  from  tombs  than  books. 
Modern  antiquarians  have  deciphered  many  of  the  hiero¬ 
glyphics  on  tombs  and  Pyramids,  and  many  more  remain 
to  be  interpreted.  What  a  singular  providence  to  pre¬ 
serve  the  annals  of  a  nation  which  was  the  cradle  of 
Science  for  more  than  4000  years  —  not  on  paper  or 
parchment,  which  would  long  since  have  perished,  but 
on  the  tombs  and  senulchral  monuments  of  its  dead ! 
In  the  graveyards  of  their  giants  we  read  their  history. 

After  visiting  several  of  the  larger  Pyramids  of  Sak- 
harah,  we  hurried  into  the  shade  of  the  largest  one,  and 
resorted  to  our  wallets  for  a  noonday  meal.  The  winter 
sun  is  not  uncomfortably  hot  here,  so  long  as  one  keeps 
near  the  Nile ;  but  once  out  on  these  heaps  of  rolling 
sand  for  an  hour,  and  he  is  ready  to  roast  on  the  earth 
or  under  it.  The  sun  pours  his  heat  from  above,  waves 
of  hot  twittering  air  rush  up  from  the  seething  sand, 
while  he  wades  and  pufis  over  it  with  immense  labor. 

On  our  return  we  took  a  different  route.  Nearly  all 


THE  PALM  TREE. 


59 


the  mud- villages  were  embowered  among  palm  groves, 
whose  graceful,  lofty  tops  contrasted  strangely  with  the 
gro  mlling,  crouching  dwellers  in  the  towns.  Finally, 
we  reached  the  small  Arab  village  of  Metrahenny,  the 
few  miserable  human  dwellings  which  mark  the  site  of 
Memphis,  the  Noph  and  No  of  the  Bible,  consisting  of  a 
few  huts  scattered  among  a  forest  of  palms.  These 
trees  are  of  great  value  and  use  in  this  part  of  the 
world.  Their  feathery  tops  shield  against  the  burning 
sun ;  their  long  trunks  are  used  for  building  purposes ; 
their  leaves  for  making  baskets ;  their  fruit  is  used  for 
food ;  and  their  sap  for  making  arrak  (date  brandy) ; 
their  undressed  logs  serve  the  fishermen  of  the  Nile  and 
Red  Sea  as  boats ;  and  their  branches  are  used  as  en¬ 
signs  of  triumph.  Their  wood  was  used  for  the  dwel¬ 
lings  of  the  living,  and  to  board  up  the  embalmed  corpses 
of  the  dead.  The  tents  at  the  feast  of  tabernacles 
were  covered  with  palm  branches  (Lev.  23) ;  and  with 
“branches  of  palm  trees,”  the  people  of  Jerusalem  wel¬ 
comed  the  King  of  Israel  at  his  triumphal  approach  to 
his  city.  And  the  innumerable  multitude  which  John 
saw  before  the  throne  and  the  Lamb,  clothed  with  white 
robes,  had  palms  in  their  hands.  Rev.  7  :  9.  No  tree  is 
so  graceful  and  erect.  “  Thy  stature  is  like  to  a  palm 
tree.”  Song  of  Sol.  7  :  7.  The  idols  of  the  Jews  were 
“  upright  as  the  palm  tree.”  Jer.  10  ;  5.  Its  rough-rinded 
trunk  lifts  its  vigorous,  plumy  top  high  above  earth,  and 
bears  fruit  nearest  heaven.  “  The  righteous  shall  flourish 
like  the  palm-tree.”  Psalm  92  :  12. 

Looking  over  the  surrounding  plain,  we  saw  mounds 
and  vast  piles  of  ruins,  on  which  beautiful  palm  grove? 
and  wheat-fields  were  waving  in  the  breeze.  A  mighty 
city  once  this  Memphis  was,  the  abode  of  royalty  ana 


60  SCRIPTURE  ALLUSIONS  TO  MEMPHI&. 


cruelty,  great  and  terrible.  Here  the  Pharaohs  lived, 
and  here  they  died ;  the  Pharaoh  that  promoted  Joseph, 
and  the  Pharaoh  that  ‘‘knew  not  Joseph.”  How  terri¬ 
bly  true  I  felt  the  prophecy  of  Jeremiah  to  be,  with  my 
eyes  resting  on  the  depopulated  city,  its  unseen  ruins 
nourishing  palm  trees,  wheat  fields,  and  herds  of  cattle! 
“  0  thou  daughter  dwelling  in  Egypt,  furnish  thyself  to 
“go  into  captivity ;  for  Noph  shall  be  waste  and  desolate, 
without  an  inhabitant.”  Jer.  46  :  19-26.  In  this  city 
they  fed  the  ox  Apis,  as  their  god,  to  whose  destruction 
Ezekiel  alludes.  “  Thus  saith  the  Lord  God;  I  will  also 
destroy  the  idols,  and  I  will  cause  their  images  to  cease 
out  of  NopJi^  and  there  shall  be  no  more  a  prince  of  the 
land  of  Egypt.”  Ezek.  30  :  13. 

In  sight  of  the  Nile,  whose  swellings  flowed  around 
and  perhaps  through  it,  the  description  of  Nahum  would 
suit  its  geography  as  w^ell  now  as  then.  “Art  thou 
better  than  populous  No,  that  was  situated  among  the 
"ivers,  that  had  the  waters  round  about  it,  whose  rampart 
was  the  sea,  and  her  wall  was  from  the  sea  ?  Ethiopia  and 
Egypt  were  her  strength,  and  it  was  infinite.”  Nahum  3  : 
8-9.  But  one  relic  remains  visible.  In  a  ditch,  containing 
water  left  by  the  annual  swelling  of  the  river,  lay  a  col- 
lossal  statue,  with  the  back  upward,  its  pretty  face  with 
distinct  features  partly  visible.  The  ditch  or  pond  is 
formed  by  high  mounds  of  ruins.  Here  it  has  lain  for 
many  centuries ;  perhaps  it  is  the  same  one  which  Herod¬ 
otus  describes  as  having  stood  in  front  of  the  great 
gateway.  I  looked  over  the  verdant,  uneven  plain, 
where  slept  Joseph’s  prison  and  his  palace.  Hither  he 
was  brought  by  the  “  Midianite  merchantmen,”  and 
here  he  interpreted  Pharaoh’s  dream.  Hither  came  his 
brethren  twice,  and  then  his  old  father  with  his  families. 


REMAINS  OF  ANCIENT  xM  EM  PHIS.  Cl 

Here  partly  Moses  was  reared,  and  here  he  plead  for 
his  oppressed  brethren. 

To  get  a  faint  view  of  the  greatness  of  ancient  Mem¬ 
phis,  one  need  hut  look  westward  from  here,  where  her 
vast  necropolis  stretches  along  the  edge  of  the  Lyhian 
desert  for  many  miles.  Scores  of  pyramids,  great  and 
small,  rose  -within  our  view,  each  a  separate  sepulchre  of 
some  prince  or  king  —  a  vast  city  of  the  dead,  running 
over  with  sand,  its  streets  running  through  shelves  of 
mummy-swathings ;  long  lines  of  polished  tombs,  the 
palaces  of  the  dead ;  vast  galleries  of  shrivelled,  crispy 
corpses,  all  being  but  the  hurying-ground  of  Memphis. 
The  king  that  sat  on  his  throne,  the  master  and  the 
slave,  the  god  and  his  worshipper,  the  proud  and  the 
poor,  all  sleep  in  the  same  desert ;  kings,  with  their 
heads  way  up  in  the  pyramids,  subjects  down  below  the 
sand.  What  a  scene,  could  they  all  come  back  to  the 
deserted  city,  and  for  a  moment  fill  it  with  its  palaces 
and  its  people !  In  other  parts  of  the  world,  many 
might  have  lived,  died,  and  decayed  a  hundred  times 
since  they  were  buried. 

The  art  of  embalming  partly  helped  to  preserve  these 
dead  so  long.  But  the  main  preserver  is,  doubtless,  the 
dryness  of  the  air  and  earth.  The  absence  of  all  moist¬ 
ure  would  retard  decomposition  in  any  country.  The 
hurying-ground  of  Memphis  was  famous  in  ancient  times, 
either  for  its  mode  of  interring  the  dead,  or  for  some 
other  peculiarity,  perhaps  its  boundless  capacity  for  re¬ 
ceiving  them.  What  multitudes  of  Hebrews  sleep  in 
this  sandy  cemetery  of  Memphis  !  Many  were  driven 
hither  in  the  days  of  their  last  kings.  Here  they  died 
and  were  buried.  “  Egypt  shall  gather  them  up,  Mem¬ 
phis  shall  bury  them.”  Hosea  9  :  6.  This,  at  least, 
6 


62 


ISLE  OF  RODAH. 


would  seem  to  point  it  out  as  the  most  celebrated  hury- 
ing-ground  in  Egypt.  I  never  felt  such  an  overpower¬ 
ing  illustration  of  fulfilled  prophecy  and  executed  Divine 
displeasure,  as  when  I  stood  amid  the  palm  trees  of 
Memphis.  Thriving  groves  and  grain  fields  are  spread 
over  the  site  of  Egypt’s  pride  and  shame.  A  faint 
breeze  sighed  a  sad  requiem  over  the  dead  city,  hut  not 
a  sound  was  heard  besides  it.  Even  the  filthy  little  vil¬ 
lage  was  unusually  silent.  The  inhabitants  have  moved 
to  another  city.  ‘‘  Noph  shall  he  waste  and  desolate 
without  an  inhabitant.”  Jer.  46  :  19.  At  such  a  place, 
the  fool  only  can  deny  the  Divine  inspiration  of  prophecy. 

Our  visit  to  the  Pyramids  of  Ghizeh  was  equally  inte¬ 
resting.  They  are  about  ten  miles  northwest  of  Cairo  in 
a  straight  line,  but  over  the  crooked,  winding  causeways 
the  distance  is  fifteen.  Again  the  boatmen  shrieked  and 
fisted  in  fierce  confusion,  seemingly  ready  to  tear  us  to 
pieces.  The  donkeys  were  tumbled  in  like  bales  of  mer¬ 
chandise.  On  our  way  we  stopped  at  the  isle  of  Rodan, 
to  see  the  famous  Nilometer.  Tradition  says  that  the 
daughter  of  Pharaoh  found  Moses,  floating  in  his  little 
ark,  on  the  edge  of  this  island.  There  is  no  reason  why 
this  may  not  have  been  true,  for  the  island^seems  to  have, 
been  the  abode  of  royalty  at  a  tolerably  remote  period  ; 
and  a  little  bark  put  on  the  river  higher  up,  where  Mem¬ 
phis  and  many  of  the  Hebrew  slaves  then  were,  would 
be  more  likely  to  touch  on  its  banks  in  the  middle  of  the 
river  than  at  either  shore.  The  Pharaohs  having  had  a 
palace  here,  where  they  spent  part  of  their  time,  it  would 
seem  natural  that  the  daughter  should  notice  the  little 
ark  floating  down  the  river.  There  is  a  fine  palace  here 
now,  and  one  of  the  former  pashas  laid  ofi*  the  island 
into  gardens.  The  Nilometer  is  a  graduated  column, 


NEAR  VIEW  OF  THE  PYRAMIDS. 


63 


formerly  used  to  measure  the  rising  of  the  Nile,  standing 
erect  in  a  buildinor  on  the  edore  of  Kodah.  It  is  said  to 

O 

be  nearly  a  thousand  years  old.  Our  way  led  us  several 
hours  across  the  fertile  plains ;  the  air  was  sweet  and 
balmy,  the  soft  breeze  was  freighted  with  pleasant  odors, 
and  gracefully  waved  the  tufts  of  the  tall  palms ;  a  re¬ 
viving  spring  power  seemed  to  teem  out  of  the  earth.  As 
we  rode  slowly  along,  chatting  and  happy,  one  donkey 
after  the  other  brought  his  rider  clumsily  to  the  earth 
with  a  tremendous  crash.  Very  singular  how  these  little 
animals  can  make  one  dismount,  when  so  near  the  ground, 
with  such  a  helpless  tumble. 

Strange  thoughts  one  has  in  approaching  these  world- 
renowned  Pyramids  of  Egypt  for  the  first  time.  We 
hear  and  read  so  much  about  them  at  home,  that  our 
credulity  is  tempted  to  feel  disappointed  at  the  actual 
sight  of  them,  marvellously  great  and  grand  though  they 
he.  Riding  towards  them  at  a  distance,  I  still  wondered 
that  they  looked  no  larger. '  Hungry  dogs  hailed  us  with 
their  bowlings,  and  dozens  of  Arabs,  almost  in  a  state  of 
nudity,  came  scampering  after  us,  running  as  fast  as  our 
animals,  and  offering  their  services  with  extended  hands. 
On  the  rising  border  of  the  desert,  perhaps  twenty  or  thirty 
minutes  after  leaving  the  green  Nile  plain,  we  approached 
the  base  of  the  large  Pyramid  of  Cheops.  Here  its 
immense  proportions  swelled  far  beyond  even  my  extra¬ 
vagant  expectations.  Huge  broad  blocks  rose  step  above 
step  into  the  sky,  until  they  seemed  to  rise  above  the 
reach  of  mortals.  It  was  a  scene  of  awful,  overpower¬ 
ing  grandeur,  “  the  nearest  approach  to  a  mountain  that 
the  art  of  man  has  produced.” 

By  this  time  the  number  of  straggling  Arabs  which 
we  had  picked  up  along  the  way  had  swelled  to  quite  an 


64 


TURBULENT  ARABS. 


army.  These  poor  fellows  are  innocent  of  laws  and 
manners,  and  do  what  little  they  have  to  do  in  quite  an 
original  style.  Not  one  in  twenty  had  a  hope  of  getting 
employment,  so  they  raised  a  fearful  commotion,  trying 
to  mob  their  services  upon  us.  Fortunately  the  sheikh  of 
the  nearest  village  came  to  our  rescue,  and,  for  a  small 
fee,  gave  us  directions  how  to  manage  them. 

There  is  no  use  to  reason  with  these  Egyptian  Arabs  ; 
English,  French,  and  Arabic,  good  and  bad,  are  all  thrown 
away  on  them.  Only  he  who  has  the  rod  at  command, 
can  grapple  with  them  in  controversy.  The  sheikh 

assigned  one  guide  to  each  of  us  for  a  shilling,  with 

strict  orders  to  permit  no  others  to  follow.  After  light¬ 
ing  our  candles,  we  entered  the  Pyramid  through  a  nar¬ 
row  inclined  shaft,  with  a  polished  marble  floor.  I 

happened  to  enter  last  with  my  Arab.  The  sheikh 

repeated  his  counsel  to  keep  the  crowd  back.  They  tried 
to  force  their  way  by  me ;  I  argued  and  scolded  in  plain 
English,  but  all  to  no  purpose.  Experience  had  taught 
me  that  the  system  of  induction  was  the  only  philosophy 
they  understood.  I  left  them  come  till  they  had  gorged 
the  narrow  passage,  and  then  turned  on^them  with  a 
tough  cane.  They  had  not  counted  on  this.  Quick  and 
heavy  fell  the  blows  on  their  broad  bare  backs.  Confu¬ 
sion  ensued  in  their  ranks.  The  floor  was  slippery,  their 
sandals  still  more  so  from  the  hot  sand.  Running  away 
from  a  pursuing  foe,  up  a  slippery  hill,  is  not  an  easy 
task.  Some  fell,  others  fell  over  them.  I  pounded  on 
the  pavement  way  down,  which  they  mistook  for  the  ear¬ 
nest  thwacks  on  the  backs  of  the  poor  hind  ones.  And 
so  they  emerged  by  jerks,  like  water  from  the  narrow 
neck  of  an  inverted  bottle.  It  may  seem  strange  that  a 
man  of  my  cloth  should  resort  to  such  means  ;  but,  under 


I 


CANEDISCIPLINE.  65 

certain  circumstances,  a  faithful  teacher  of  good  morals 
feels  it  as  much  his  duty  to  resort  to  “  the  rod  for  the 
fool’s  back,”  as  to  arguments  and  persuasions  of  a  milder 
kind.  There  are  certain  minds  which  can  only  be 
reached  and  convinced  through  the  senses.  Perhaps 
our  Egyptian  friends  belong  to  this  class.  Wherever  I 
made  use  of  it,  I  found  that  it  decidedly  improved  their 
manners,  —  at  least  towards  myself. 

Some  may  fancy  that  the  narrative  of  such  belligerent 
adventures  had  better  remain  untold,  betraying  a  discre¬ 
ditable  want  of  taste  and  temper.  But  it  must  be  borne 
in  mind  that  every  traveller,  whatever  his  cloth,  is,  under 
certain  circumstances,  a  man  of  like  passions  with  others. 
And  furthermore,  as  to  travelling  through  a  country  of 
such  lawless,  unmannerly  vandals,  he  must  make  up  his 
mind  to  be  his  own  police,  or  he  had  better  remain  at 
home.  I  saw  an  English  lady  shamefully  annoyed  by 
these  barbarians  in  the  presence  of  her  husband.  The 
slight  brandishing  of  his  cane  would  have  brought  imme¬ 
diate  relief.  This  much  I  can  say  in  defence  of  my 
course,  apart  from  the  moral  virtue  of  the  rod  for  such 
beings.  Although  the  scene  and  its  description  may  lack 
dignity,  its  lesson  has  a  moral.  These  unprincipled 
rowdy  propensities  of  modern  Egyptians  are  important 
strokes  of  Ezekiel’s  prophetic  pencil,  with  which  he  de¬ 
picted  their  character  2500  years  ago.  This  base  fea¬ 
ture  in  Egyptian  character,  and  those  who  have  been 
Egyptianized  in  this  house  of  hondagef  furnishes 
sad  illustrations  of  fulfilled  prophecy.  Here  you  find 
yourself  alone  amid  a  score  or  two  of  full-grown  men, 
with  the  flesh  and  blood,  faces  and  forms  of  men,  who 
are  solely  influenced  by  motives  of  fear  and  dread.  They 
insult  you,  and  down  comes  your  rod  in  quick  and  pun- 

6  *  E 


66 


BURIAL-PLACE  OF  CHEOPS. 


gent  blows,  beneath  which  they  cringe,  crouch,  and  whine, 
without  the  least  show  of  resistance.  No  sooner  is  the 
rod  laid  by,  than  they  resume  their  dogged,  impertinent 
annoyances  again ;  beings  morally  base  and  torpid,  from 
whose  hearts  and  minds  every  vestige  of  true  manliness 
has  been  obliterated,  the  quintessence  of  a  base,  servile 
spirit,  just  as  the  prophet  has  it.  “  They  shall  be  there 
a  base  kingdom.  It  shall  be  the  basest  of  kingdoms.” 
Ezek.  29  :  14,  15.  The  Egyptians  have  become  so 
used  to  this  kind  of  training,  that  they  seem  to  bear  it 
as  a  matter  of  course.  The  usual  method  of  punishing 
is  to  lay  the  oifender  on  his  back,  with  his  feet  on  a  stool 
or  log,  when  the  lash  is  applied  to  the  soles  of  his  feet. 
‘‘  If  the  wicked  man  be  worthy  to  be  beaten,  the  judge 
shall  cause  him  to  lie  down  io  be  beaten  before  his  face.” 
Deut.  25  :  2.  Doubtless  the  poor  Hebrews  suffered 
this  penalty  while  in  Egypt.  It  is  very  severe,  often 
leaving  the  sufferer  in  a  fainting  condition,  and  his  lace¬ 
rated  feet  unfit  to  walk  for  days.  The  Jewish  law 
only  allowed  forty  stripes  ;  Paul  received  one  less  of  the 
Jews.  2  Cor.  11:  24.  Seeing  these  poor  Egyptian  bond- 
men  beaten  and  bleeding  for  their  sins,  one  cannot  help 
but  think  of  Him  who  “  was  wounded  for  our  transgres¬ 
sions,  and  bruised  for  our  iniquities ;  the  chastisement 
of  our  peace  was  upon  him,  and  with  his  stripes  we  arp 
healed.”  Isaiah  53  :  5. 

After  climbing  and  clambering  our  way  up  and  down 
a  series  of  slippery  passages,  we  reached  a  dark  cham¬ 
ber,  seventy  or  eighty  feet  above  the  base  of  the  Pyra¬ 
mid  ;  this  contained  a  large  granite  sarcophagus,  smoothly 
polished.  Here  Cheops,  who  had  this  Pyramid  built  for 
his  sepulchral  monument,  is  supposed  to  have  been 
buried.  The  air  was  hot  and  stnothering,  and  gave  a 


1 


ASCENT  OF  A  PYRAMID.  67 

singular  ringing  sound  to  the  human  voice.  When  we 
came  out,  the  disappointed  Arabs  clamorously  pressed 
their  claims  for  bucksheesh,  but  the  occasional  flourish 
of  a  club  silenced  their  clamor,  and  kept  them  at  a 
respectful  distance. 

The  ascent  of  the  Pyramid  is  along  the  outside.  The 
blocks  of  stone  recede  as  you  ascend,  forming  steps  from 
three  to  four  feet  high.  Each  took  his  Arab,  and*  kept 
ofi*  the  rest  as  best  he  could,  and  so  began  our  ascent. 
There  is  no  use  to  call  it  easy,  as  many  have  done.  If 
there  is  a  more  joint-straining,  knee-skinning,  shudder- 
inspiring  stairway  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  I  have  never 
heard  of  it.  Now  the  guide  half  drags  you  over  the 
rough-edged  stones,  then  you  clamber  up  the  high  steps 
on  all-fours.  And  as  you  look  down  to  the  base  over  the 
immense  side,  and  think  what  a  rough  roll  you  would 
have  if  your  foot  should  slip,  you  feel  a  twitching  thrill 
of  the  nerves,  which  is  anything  but  an  agreeable  sensa¬ 
tion,  just  there.  Our  Arabs  took  to  racing.  Mine  was 
as  fleet  as  a  roe,  bounding  from  step  to  step  with  in¬ 
credible  agility.  He  held  a  firm  grip  at  my  hand,  drag¬ 
ging  me  upward  until  I  was  almost  out  of  breath.  I 
scolded,  begged,  and  coaxed  him  to  desist ;  but  all  to  nc 
purpose.  Half-way  up  the  Pyramid  is  no  place  for  re¬ 
senting  Egyptian  rudeness  —  graver  matters  to  do  and 
think  about  there.  The  cruel  heathen  dragged  me  to  the 
top  in  eight  minutes.  After  w^e  had  finished  scolding 
the  racing  Arabs,  and  gotten  over  our  panting,  we  feasted 
on  the  view  our  position  commanded.  The  top  of  this 
Pyramid  of  Cheops  is  a  square  platform  of  thirty-two 
feet  on  each  side.  While  looking  down  from  this  hoary 
eminence  of  the  past,  w^e  attended  to  the  wants  of  the 
outward  man;  and  just  then  and  there,  with  the, tomb 


68 


VIEW  FROM  A  PYRAMID. 


of  Cheops  for  our  table,  we  relished  our  simple  fare  more 
than  he  ever  did  his  kingly  banquets.  For  the  benefit 
of  the  more  curious  reader,  who  might  wonder  what  a 
person  could  relish  on  the  Pyramid,  I  would  say  that 
cold  beef,  eggs,  bread  and  butter,  said  oranges,  made  up 
our  meal. 

We  had  now  reached  a  stand-point  not  often  attained 
by  mortals.  On  the  eve  of  a  great  battle,  Napoleon, 
addressing  his  army  near  the  Pyramids,  said :  War¬ 
riors  !  remember,  from  these  monuments  four  thousand 
years  look  down  upon  you.”  When  Abraham  came  from 
Mesopotamia,  this  Pyramid  was  already  many  years  old, 
w^hich  the  father  of  the  faithful  doubtless  viewed  with 
amazement.  Jacob  and  Joseph,  Moses,  and  most  likely 
the  Virgin  and  Jesus,  looked  at  it  with  wonder.  Here 
it  has  stood  for  5000  years,  survived  all  the  generations 
of  men  that  have  lived  since,  survived  Egypt’s  greatness 
and  fall.  Still  it  stands  firm.  The  Arabs  have  a  pro¬ 
verb  :  “  Everything  fears  time,  but  time  fears  the  Pyra¬ 
mids.”  Viewing  the  world  from  such  a  place,  the  long 
ages  seem  like  years,  and  the  distance  of  antiquity  is 
brought  comparatively  near. 

What  a  scope  of  objects  the  view  embraces !  West¬ 
ward  stretch  out  the  rolling,  trackless  sands  of  the  Ly- 
bian  Desert.  Vast  sand-heaps,  which  the  storm  rolls 
and  swells  like  the  waves  of  the  sea,  loom  up  along  the 
horizon.  No  tree  nor  plant,  man  nor  beast,  nor  any 
living  thing,  is  seen.  The  whole  is  a  most  complete  pic¬ 
ture  of  lifeless  desolation.  Eastward  spreads  out  the 
fertile  plain  of  the  Nile,  like  one  continuous  meadow, 
with  grazing  herds,  and  numerous  mud-villages  embowered 
among  palm-trees  —  the  mounds  and  palm-groves  of 
Memphis  distinctly  in  view,  where  lived  the  man  on 


I 


DEATH  OF  AN  ENGLISH  OFFICER.  69 

whose  tomb  we  were  sitting.  The  Nile  threads  its  ma¬ 
jestic  march  through  this  living  picture,  like  a  mighty 
artist,  which  makes  the  whole,  darting  its  life-colors  over 
the  plain  through  hundreds  of  canals.  A  short  distance 
from  its  opposite  bank  was  Grand  Cairo,  with  its  palaces 
and  minarets,  all  shining  white  and  lovely  in  the  dis¬ 
tance.  Beyond,  Heliopolis,  the  land  of  Goshen,  spread 
out  in  the  dim  distance  —  the  blest  region  where  Jacob 
and  Joseph  met. 

Many  a  haughty  house  and  mighty  race  has  sunk  into 
oblivion — kingdoms  and  thrones  have  risen  and  fallen — 
since  this  marvellous  pile  was  first  reared.  Still,  the 
“  stranger  ”  from  other  lands  gazes  with  wonder  on  its 
stupendous  proportions.  And  so  it  will  continue  to  be — 
the  last  monument  of  a  primitive  age,  which  promises  to 
survive  all  other  monuments  and  works  of  man. 

For  a  small  present,  one  of  our  Arabs  descended  the 
Pyramid,  ascended  another  one  nearly  as  large,  about  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  off,  then  returned  to  the  top  of  ours 
again  —  all  in  twenty  minutes.  He  bounded  over  the 
large  steps  like  a  cat,  and  at  the  end  of  his  task  showed 
little  fatigue.  The  blocks  are  so  high,  that  the  only  con¬ 
venient  way  of  descending  is  to  run  down  without  help. 
I  found  this  the  easiest  and  quickest  plan,  but  reached 
the  base  with  stiff  and  sore  limbs,  which  left  me  in  a 
limping  plight  for  three  or  four  days. 

The  ascent  of  the  Pyramids  is  not  without  its  danger. 
A  single  misstep  would  send  one  rolling  to  the  base. 
Stephens  gives  an  account  of  an  English  officer  who  was 
killed  in  this  way.  While  “  walking  around  the  upper 
layer  of  stones,  he  fell,  rolled  down  eight  or  ten  steps, 
and  caught.  For  a  moment  he  turned  up  his  fiice  with 
an  expression  that  his  friend  spoke  of  as  horrible  beyond 


0l 


70 


USES  OF  THE  PYRAMIDS. 


all  description ;  when  his  head  sunk,  his  grasp  relaxed, 
and  he  pitched  headlong,  rolling  over  and  ove^  to  the 
bottom  of  the  Pyramid.  Every  bone  in  his  body  was 
broken.  His  mangled  corpse  was  sewed  up  in  a  sack, 
and  carried  to  Old  Cairo,  where  it  was  buried.” 

There  are  three  large  Pyramids  here,  and  many  smaller 
ones  —  forty  in  all ;  each  a  separate  and  distinct  tomb, 
to  encase  the  dust,  proclaim  and  perpetuate  the  glory  of 
men  of  old.  Lepsius  thinks  that  each  king  began  the 
building  of  his  Pyramid  as  soon  as  he  ascended  the  throne. 
He  only  designed  a  small  one,  to  ensure  himself  a  com¬ 
plete  tomb  (at  the  end  of  each  year),  even  were  he  des¬ 
tined  to  be  but  a  few  years  upon  the  throne.  But  with 
the  advancing  years^of  his  reign,  he  increased  it  by  suc¬ 
cessive  layers  on  the  outside,  till  he  thought  he  was  near 
the  end  of  his  life.  If  he  died  during  the  erection,  then 
the  external  covering  was  alone  completed,  and  the  monu¬ 
ment  of  death  finally  remained  proportionate  to  the  dura¬ 
tion  of  the  life  of  the  king.  Now,  as  by  the  rings  of  a 
tree  we  can  calculate  its  age,  so,  by  the  layers  and  size 
of  Pyramids  w'e  can  count  the  years  of  the  king’s  life. 
King  Cheops  was  the  longest  on  the  throne ;  and  so  he 
get  the  largest  number  of  layers,  and  the  tallest  Pyra¬ 
mid.  Whole  layers  of  blocks  have  been  torn  off  from 
the  top  to  the  base,  to  build  the  palaces  of  the  pashas ; 
and  still  they  remain  symmetrical  and  complete  in  form. 
The  large  Pyramid  has  a  perpendicular  height  of  450 
feet.  The  platform  on  which  it  is  built  is  about  150  feet; 
so  that  its  actual  perpendicular  height  above  the  plain  is 
about  600  feet.  The  base  covers  sixteen  acres  of  ground. 
Ancient  writers  tell  us  that  100,000  men  were  constantly 
employed  in  its  building  for  a  period  of  thirty  years. 
“  Every  three  months  they  were  relieved  by  the  same 


LEPSIUS’S  INSCRIPTION. 


71 


number.  Ten  complete  years  were  spent  in  hewing  out 
the  stones,  either  in  Arabia  or  Ethiopia,  and  in  convey¬ 
ing  them  to  Egypt ;  and  twenty  years  more  in  build- 
mg  it. 

At  the  entrance  into  the  Pyramid  is  a  tablet  with 
hieroglyphics,  put  there  by  Lepsius  and  his  associates, 
who  constituted  the  celebrated  scientific  expedition  which 
the  King  of  Prussia  sent  to  Egypt  in  1842.  The  inscrip¬ 
tion  reads  as  follows :  Thus  speak  the  servants  of  the 
King,  whose  name  is  the  Sun  and  Rock  of  Prussia,  Lep¬ 
sius  the  scribe,  Erbkam  the  architect,  the  brothers  Wei- 
denbach  the  painters,  Frey  the  painter,  Franke  the 
moulder,  Bonomi  the  sculptor.  Wild  the  architect. — All 
hail  to  the  eagle,  the  Protector  of  the  Cross,  to  the  King 
the  Sun  and  Rock  of  Prussia,  to  the  Son  of  the  Sun, 
who  freed  his  Fatherland,  Frederick  William  the  Fourth, 
the  Philopator,  the  Father  of  his  Country,  the  Gracious 
One,  the  Favorite  of  Wisdom  and  History,  the  Guardian 
of  the  Rhine,  whom  Germany  has  chosen  the  Dispenser 
of  Life.  May  the  Most  High  God  grant  the  King,  and 
his  Consort,  the  Queen,  Elizabeth,  the  Rich  in  Life,  the 
Philometor,  the  Mother  of  her  Country,  the  Gracious 
One,  an  ever  new  and  long  life  on  Earth,  and  a  blessed 
habitation  in  Heaven  through  all  Eternity.  In  the  year 
of  our  Saviour,  1842,  in  the  tenth  month,  on  the  fifteenth 
day,  on  the  forty-seventh  Birthday  of  his  Majesty,  on 
the  Pyramid  of  King  Cheops ;  in  the  third  year,  in  the 
fifth  month,  on  the  ninth  day  of  the  reign  of  his  Ma¬ 
jesty  ;  in  the  year  3164  from  the  commencement  of  the 
Sothis  period  under  the  King  Menepthes.” 

Josephus  says  the  Hebrews  had  to  build  Pyramids, 
which  may  be  true  with  respect  to  the  smaller  and  later 
ones.  Some  of  these  are  built  of  brick,  perhaps  the 


72 


THE  SPHINX. 


result  of  the  cruel  labor  which  Pharaoh  and  the  task¬ 
masters  extorted  from  them.  Near  the  large  Pyramid 
is  the  Sphinx,  a  colossal  statue  over  250  feet  in  length. 
A  large  part  of  it  still  remains  covered  with  sand.  The 
head  and  forepart  of  the  statue  have  been  excavated.  It 
looks  out  from  its  sterile  sand-grave  upon  the  verdant 
Nile-meadows,  like  a  mysterious  sentinel  in  the  land  of 
the  dead,  mutely  musing  over  the  living  world.  Looking 
out  upon  the  Egypt  of  the  Nile  from  here,  I  saw  what 
must  have  always  appeared  to  the  Egyptian  as  two  dis¬ 
tinct  worlds.  One  a  region  of  life,  unutterably  green 
and  lovely,  with  its  beautiful  life-bearing  Nile ;  the 
other  a  lifeless  region,  a  plantless,  fountainless  world  of 
graves,  where  death  reigns  supreme.  Great  sand-waves, 
like  snow-drifts,  strive  to  submerge  the  living  grassy 
plain,  and  still  the  annual  swelling  beats  death  hack  into 
the  desert,  and  extorts  fruitfulness  even  out  of  the  sand. 
But  for  the  yearly  inundations  the  desert  would  soon 
approach  the  banks  of  the  Nile.  Its  mighty  sway  checks 
the  sand-invader  on  its  frontiers,  where  its  proud  waves 
must  be  stayed. 

On  our  return  from  the  Pyramids  we  stopped  at  the 
village  of  Ghizeh  to  see  the  egg  ovens.  The  hens  of  Egypt 
are  less  given  to  sedentary  habits  than  their  species  in 
other  quarters  of  the  globe.  After  they  have  laid  their 
eggs,  they  have  little  concern  whether  their  offspring 
turn  up  in  the  form  of  poached  eggs,  omelets,  or  chicklings. 
But  as  such  selfish  notions  would  soon  leave  Egypt  with- 
out  eggs  or  chickens,  the  invention  of  man  has  stepped 
in  and  supplied  ovens  which  hatch  them  by  shoals.  We 
crawled  through  a  series  of  holes,  over  dust  and  fleas, 
into  a  heated  apartment.  The  oven  was  perhaps  as  large 
as  half  a  dozen  ordinary-sized  bake-ovens,  heated  to  a 


EGYPTIAN  EGG  OVENS. 


78 


hatching  temperature.  The  floor  was  strewn  with  a  Liyer 
of  fine  hay,  on  which  the  eggs  were  laid.  Some  chicklings 
were  just  piercing  and  peeping  through  the  shell  with 
their  little  bills ;  others  were  trying  to  kick  ofi*  their 
prison-house  and  rise  above  their  shelly  existence,  scram¬ 
bling  over  their  unfledged  neighbors,  while  others  were 
lazily  lying  about  in  uncovered  contentment.  This  hot¬ 
bed  step-motherly  treatment  gives  to  Egypt  a  dwarfish 
race  of  chickens,  scarcely  half  the  size  of  those  in  other 
countries. 

The  Nile  is  the  source  of  earthly  good  to  the  Egyptian. 
Without  a  tributary  for  nearly  1500  miles ;  with  a  source,- 
which,  after  all  the  research  of  modern  explorers,  is  veiled 
in  mystery,  its  mighty  unintelligible  independence  in¬ 
spires  a  respect  in  the  Egyptian,  which  to  this  day 
amounts  almost  to  adoration.  Where  does  it  rise,  and 
through  what  realms  does  its  young  stream  flow  ?  The 
rivers  of  other  lands  receive  all,  but  give  little.  If  their 
brooks  and  creeks  withhold  their  streams,  they  dry  up. 
But  in  the  eyes  of  the  Egyptian  the  Nile  is  a  self- 
existent  stream,  that  gets  its  waters  from  unknown 
resources ;  like  the  Creator,  it  delights  to  give  and  bless, 
without  telling  where  it  gets  wherewith  to  bless.  For 
hundreds  of  miles  the  river  flows  slowly  along  with  an 
equal  volume  of  water,  mild,  majestic,  and  benignant, 
as  his  statue  in  the  Vatican.  Larger  than  the  Thames, 
Rhine,  or  Danube  in  size,  it  is  more  like  an  American 
river  than  any  I  have  seen  in  other  lands.  Its  width 
varies  from  a  half  to  three-quarters  of  a  mile. 

The  fertile  inhabited  part  of  Egypt  is  a  strip  of  land 
from  twenty  to  thirty  miles  wide,  and  600  miles  long.  As 
It  approaches  the  Mediterranean  it  becomes  wider.  This 
is  fertilized  by  the  yearly  overflowing  of  the  Nile.  In 
7 


74 


OVERFLOW  OF  THE  NILE. 


June  the  river  begins  to  rise,  and  reaches  its  greatest 
height  in  October.  If  it  rises  less  than  twelve  or  more 
than  twenty-eight  feet  above  low  water,  the  crops  will  fail. 
Thus  every  year  it  brings  from  the  depth  of  Ethiopia 
rich,  black  deposits,  and  spreads  them  over  the  plain. 
During  the  inundation  Egypt  looks  like  a  vast  lake  with 
many  islands.  The  villages  are  built  on  heaps  or  hills 
of  earth ;  the  roads  are  raised  on  embankments,  so  that 
the  intercourse  and  safety  of  the  people  is  not  interrupted 
by  the  flood.  In  many  places  the  water  is  carried  to  the 
remoter  parts  of  the  plain  by  means  of  canals,  and  large 
tanks  are  filled  to  preserve  a  supply  for  irrigation  during 
the  dry  season.  The  Jewish  historian  says  that  the 
Hebrews  helped  to  build  these  canals  and  ramparts 
during  their  Egyptian  bondage. 

During  the  last  weeks  of  the  swelling  the  excitement 
of  the  people  becomes  intense,  for  it  is  the  harbinger  of 
fruitful  or  barren  years.  Heralds  run  through  the  cities 
and  over  the  country  to  proclaim  the  daily  rising ;  and 
when  the  reports  are  favorable  their  joy  knows  no 
bounds,  for  it  is  their  meat  and  drink,  their  raiment  and 
rest.  In  its  favor  they  live,  move,  and  have  their  earthly 
being.  It  brings  life  on  their  earth,  and  so  becomes  a 
striking  image  of  ‘‘a  pure  river  of  water  of  life.”  Kev. 
22  :  1.  Before  the  inundation  all  vegetation  is  parched 
and  burned  up,  and  the  country  looks  dreary,  like  ours  in 
mid  winter.  The  subsiding  of  the  waters  covers  it  again 
with  vernal  life.  Some  peasants  scatter  their  seed  on 
the  sinking  water,  which  soaks  with  it  into  the  black 
mud,  and  at  once  begins  to  grow  without  any  further 
attention.  Perhaps  Solomon  alludes  to  this  custom, 
when  he  says :  Cast  thy  bread  upon  the  waters ;  for 
thou  shalt  find  it  after  many  days.”  Eccl.  11  :  1.  Then 


.WINTER  IN  EGYPT. 


75 


too  comes  a  rich  feast  for  all  manner  of  birds ;  vultures, 
cormorants,  and  geese  thrust  their  bills  into  the  mud  ; 
long  lines  of  pelicans  are  busy  along  the  water’s  edge, 
and  flocks  of  the  ibis,  a  white  bird  the  size  of  a  chicken, 
fly  through  the  air  in  white  clouds.  Cicero  says  :  “  It 
was  never  known  that  any  per&on  in  Egypt  ever  abused 
a  crocodile,  an  ibis,  or  a  cat ;  for  its  inhabitants  would 
have  suffered  the  most  extreme  torments,  rather  than  be 
guilty  of.  such  sacrilege.”  While  eating  the  sweet  fish 
of  the  Nile,  and  looking  at  these  snow-white  birds,  I  had 
often  to  think  that  these  were  adored  by  the  men  who 
, built  Thebes  and  the  Pyramids.  The  ibis  is  still  a 
sacred  bird  to  the  Egyptians,  which,  like  the  stork 
among  the  Germans,  is  watched  and  protected  with  a 
half  religious  care.  This  accounts  for  their  being  so 
very  numerous  and  tame. 

Winter  is  to  the  Egyptian  what  summer  is  to  us.  In 
February  we  saw  the  herds  grazing  amid  the  tall  grass  ; 
the  wheat  was  in  heads,  and  the  flax  in  blossoms ;  by 
day  the  air  was  warm  as  a  Pennsylvania  June,  while  the 
nights  were  cool.  The  hot  sun  and  the  absence  of  rain 
parches  and  dries  up  all  vegetation  in  the  summer.  The 
cattle  are  fed  with  dry  feed,  and  the  country  looks  as 
dreary  and  bare  as  ours  in  winter.  The  plagues  of  Pha¬ 
raoh  must  have  taken  place  in  the  latter  part  of  February 
or  beginning  of  March.  When  the  plague  of  hail  was 
sent,  the  cattle  were  grazing  ‘Gn  the  field;”  “the  flax 
and  the  barley  was  smitten ;  for  the  barley  was  in  the 
ear  and  the  flax  was  boiled.”  Ex.  9  :  31-32.  The  locust 
followed  in  the  wake  of  the  hail,  and  devoured  the  re¬ 
maining  vegetation.  Generally  barley  and  flax  ripen  in 
March,  wheat  and  rye  in  April. 

In  the  region  of  the  Delta,  along  the  Mediterranean, 


76 


SYSTEM  OF  IRRIGATION. 


rain  falls  in  scanty  showers,  but  not  enough  to  fertilize 
and  moisten  the  earth.  In  middle  Egypt,  about  Mem¬ 
phis  and  Cairo,  they  have  less,  and  further  south  they 
have  none  at  all.  After  the  waters  of  the  flood  have  all 
dried  away,  numerous  pumps  are  started  on  the  banks 
of  the  Kile,  worked  by  large  bufialoes.  These  consist 
of  a  vertical  wheel,  with  small  buckets  hung  to  the  cir¬ 
cumference,  which  empty  their  contents  into  a  ditch, 
and  send  it  over  adjoining  lots.  Everywhere,  from  early 
morning  till  late  at  night,  the  heavy,  weary  creaking  of 
these  pumps  is  heard.  Did  not  Solomon  refer  to  these 
wheels,  with  buckets  or  bowls  fastened  by  cords,  when  he 
spake  of  the  decay  and  death  of  man  ? 

“Ere  the  silver  cord  be  loosed, 

Or  the  golden  howl  be  broken, 

Or  the  pitcher  be  broken  at  the  fountain, 

Or  the  wheel  broken  at  the  cistern/^ 

Eccl.  12  :  6. 

In  Egypt,  where  these  wheels  draw  living  water  from  life 
fountains,  this  figure  is  very  expressive  when  applied  to  the 
functions  of  the  human  body.  Others  draw  water  out  of 
wells  and  cisterns  by  means  of  a  transvei^se  pole  poised  on 
an  upright  post.  A  weight  is  fixed  to  one  end  of  the  pole, 
and  a  bucket,  hung  at  a  rope,  to  the  other.  The  weight  is 
as  heavy  as  the  bucket  when  full,  so  that  when  it  is  filled 
with  water  it  rises  of  itself.  Sometimes  the  foot  is  used 
to  get  the  empty  bucket  down.  Of  the  rainless  region 
and  its  tedious  irrigation,  we  have  a  number  of  intima¬ 
tions  in  Bible  history,  sometimes  contrasting  its  drought 
and  Nile  dependence  with  the  copious  rains  of  Canaan. 
“  For  the  land,  whither  thou  goest  in  to  possess  it,  is  not 
as  the  land  of  Egypt,  from  whence  ye  came  out,  where 
thou  sowedst  thy  seed,  and  wateredst  it  with  thy  foot,  as 


-  r 


IMPORTANCE  OF  THE  NILE.  77 

a  garden  of  herbs :  But  the  land  whither  ye  go  to  pos¬ 
sess  it,  is  a  land  of  hills  and  valleys,  and  drinketh  water 
of  the  rain  of  heaven.”  Deut.  11  :  10,  11.  The  river 
and  ponds  abound  in  fish,  and  many  are  the  nets  and 
angles  in  pursuit  of  them.  The  fishers  also  shall 
mourn,  and  all  they  that  cast  angles  into  the  brooks 
shall  lament,  and  they  that  spread  nets  upon  the  waters 
shall  languish.”  Isaiah  19  :  8.  It  seems  that  one  of  the 
Pharaohs,  having  constructed  canals  to  convey  the  water 
over  Egypt,  withheld  the  honor  due  to  God  for  the  rich 
harvests,  because  the  fertile  flood  was  borne  over  the 
plain  through  his  agency.  Then  said,  the  Lord  :  “Be¬ 
hold  I  am  against  thee.  Pharaoh,  king  of  Egypt,  which 
hath  said,  my  river  is  mine  own,  and  I  have  made  it  for 
myself.”  Ezekiel  29  :  3. 

The  dream  of  Pharaoh  almost  becomes  a  clear,  intel¬ 
ligible  prophecy,  when  viewed  in  the  relation  the  Nile 
sustains  to  Egypt.  Mediately  it  brings  fruitful  and  bar¬ 
ren  years.  When  the  flood  comes  there  will  be  a  harvest, 
if  it  do  not  come  there  will  be  none.  So  the  “  seven  well- 
favored  kine,  and  fat-fleshed,”  that  came  up  out  of  the 
river,  were  but  so  many  annual  inundations,  which  shed 
their  blessings  on  the  meadows.  So,  too,  the  ill-favored 
and  lean-fleshed  kine  came  up  out  of  the  river,  and  de¬ 
voured  the  others.  For  seven  consecutive  years  there 
was  a  low  Nile,  and  the  drought  burned  up  and  devoured 
all  the  rich  loam  which  the  former  seven  years  had  be¬ 
stowed  upon  the  land.  Gen.  41. 

All  the  wells  and  cisterns  of  Egypt,  whose  water  is  tit 
to  drink,  derive  their  water  from  the  Nile.  And  so 
when  the  river  was  turned  into  blood,  all  its  dependent 
streams,  ponds,  pools,  and  wells  became  blood,  “  through¬ 
out  all  the  land  of  Egypt.”  Indeed,  the  Nile  has  ever 
7* 


78 


LAND  TENURE  OF  EGYPT 


been  the  fountain  of  Egyptian  prosperity  and  adversity. 
When  the  prophet  foretold  a  great  famine,  it  was  because 
the  river  was  “  wasted  and  dried  up,  and  they  should  turn 
the  rivers  far  away  ;  and  the  brooks  of  defence  should  bo 
emptied  and  dried  up.”  Isaiah  19  :  5—6. 

When  one  sees  the  exuberant  productiveness  of  Egypt, 
still  producing  its  ancient  articles  of  food,  and  when  he 
watches  these  hungry  fellows  sitting  around  their  iron 
pans  and  pots,  with  flesh,  as  of  old,  the  seditious  He¬ 
brew  complaint  receives  a  vivid  illustration:  “Who  shall 
give  us  flesh  to  eat  ?  We  remember  the  fish  which 
we  did  eat  in  Egypt  freely ;  the  cucumbers,  and  the 
melons,  and  the  leeks,  and  the  onions,  and  the  garlic.” 
Num.  11  :  4,  5.  Would  to  God  we  had  died  by  the 
hand  of  the  Lord  in  the  land  of  Egypt,  when  we  sat  by 
the  flesh  pots,  and  when  we  did  eat  bread  to  the  full.” 
Ex.  16  :  3. 

The  political  condition  of  the  Egyptians  has  ever  been, 
more  or  less,  one  of  slavery.  Under  the  governorship 
of  Joseph  all  sold  their  land  for  bread,  “  Only  the  land  of 
the  priests  bought  he  not.”  Gen.  47 : 22.  Joseph  furnished 
them  with  seed,  and  allowed  them  four-fifths  of  the  crops. 
Since  then  Egypt  has  groaned  under  long  centuries  of 
oppression,  until  her  national  life  has  almost  become 
extinct.  The  late  Pasha,  or  governor,  without  the  ex¬ 
cuse  of  a  famine,  by  a  single  decree  declared  himself 
the  owner  of  all  the  lands  of  Egypt,  and  so  the  people 
are  but  his  tenants  at  will.  Not  even  the  priests  and 
mosques  were  spared.  The  Pasha  is  nominally  but  the 
governor  of  Egypt,  under  the  control  of  the  Sultan;  but 
if  he  pays  his  tribute  he  can’  treat  his  subjects  as  he 
pleases.  Himself  a  subject  of  Turkey,  he  is  the  tyrant 
of  a  nation  of  slaves.  Every  village  is  compelled  to 


THE  pasha’s  military  SYSTEM.  79 


farm  two-thirds  of  its  land  for  the  governor,  and  a  large 
proportion  of  the  remaining  third  is  exacted  for  taxes. 
His  manufactures  monopolize  labor.  The  people  dare 
not  even  spin  or  weave  the  cotton  which  they  raise,  but 
are  compelled  to  buy  their  clothing  of  him  at  his  own 
prices.  While  slavery  has  been  abolished,  so  that  no 
one  can  own,  buy,  or  sell  a  slave,  all  are  the  slaves  of 
•  the  Pasha. 

His  army  consists  chiefly  of  persons  violently  dragged 
from  their  families  and  homes,  to  be  his  life-long  bond- 
men.  These  are  kidnapped  into  the  army.  A  few  days 
before  my  arrival  in  Cairo,  his  ofiicers  slily  lighted 
down  on  Ghizeh,  suddenly  seized  the  young  men  in  the 
streets,  and  dragged  them  off,  without  permission  even  to 
bid  adieu  to  their  parents  and  families.  The  village 
resounded  with  the  most  pitiful  shrieks  and  lamentations ; 
the  streets  were  filled  with  weeping  mothers,  almost  fran¬ 
tic  with  grief:  but  the  doom  of  their  sons  was  sealed 
for  life. 

To  evade  this  cruel  military  slavery,  mothers  mutilate 
their  infants.  Old  women  and  others,  sometimes  even 
parents,  follow  the  cruel  business  of  mangling  children. 
You  seldom  find  an  able-bodied  young  man  or  youth, 
who  has  not  one  or  more  of  his  teeth  broken  out,  that 
he  may  not  be  able  to  bite  a  cartridge  ;  a  finger  cut  olF, 
an  eye  plucked  out,  or  blinded  altogether,  to  save  him 
from  being  pressed  into  the  army.  Besides  this  there  is 
no  way  of  escape.  We  had  three  Egyptians  in  our 
party  through  the  Desert,  two  of  whom  bore  the  marks 
of  the  cruel  precaution  of  their  mothers.  The  cook  had 
but  one  eye,  and  the  dragoman  had  his  forefinger  cut 
ofl’.  Egypt  still  remains  a  “  house  of  bondage,”  as  really 
as  in  the  days  of  Moses  and  Aaron. 


80 


DEGRADATION  OF  EGYPT. 


The  ancient  glory  of  Egypt  is  only  seen  in  her  tombs 
and  temples.  Her  ancient  spirit  hovers  sadly  around 
the  Pyramids  ;  she  is  the  servant  and  slave  of  others,  her 
people  servile,  cringing,  and  base.  Her  graves  and  tem¬ 
ples  have  been  ransacked  by  strangers,  her  mummies 
and  monuments  of  art  are  carried  off  to  Rome,  Berlin, 
London,  and  New  York.  The  population  has  dwindled 
down  to  a  mere  fraction  of  its  former  number ;  and  what 
the  plague  and  the  Pasha  have  left,  are  to  a  great  extent 
composed  of  cripples.  Without  schools,  but  a  very  few 
are  able  to  read  the  Koran.  With  a  tyrant  at  home, 
their  land  is  owned  by  a  foreign  ruler.  How  literally 
the  predictions  of  2500  years  ago  have  gone  into  fulfil¬ 
ment  !  “  I  will  diminish  them  that  they  shall  no  more 
rule  over  the  nations.’'  Ezek.  29  :  15.  “There  shall 
be  no  more  a  prince  of  the  land  of  Egypt :  And  I  will 
put  a  fear  in  the  land  of  Egypt.”  Ezek.  30  :  13.  What 
a  light  is  shed  on  the  history  of  Hebrew  bondage,  when 
read  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile  !  Into  this  “river  ”  Pha¬ 
raoh  charged  his  people  to  cast  the  Hebrew  children. 
By  this  “river’s  side”  the  daughter  of  Pharaoh  found 
Moses.  By  the  lifting  of  Moses’  rod  all  its  waters  “  were 
turned  into  blood,  and  after  that  it  brought  forth  frogs 
abundantly.”  Still  the  spirit  of  the  people  droops  under 
the  curse  of  fulfilled  prophecy.  Has  Egypt  a  future  ? 
The  British  highway  to  India  leads  through  it.  The 
locomotive  whirls  a  daily  train  along  the  Nile  from  Cairo 
to  Alexandria  in  seven  hours.  The  Egyptians  are  borne 
along  with  a  cool,  satisfied  air,  as  if  railroads  had  been  a 
common  thing  in  the  days  of  the  Pharaohs.  The  shrill 
whistle  utters  sounds  that  might  be  prophetic  of  some¬ 
thing  better. 

Even  the  present  Pasha  does  and  says  some  good 


V 


81 


Egypt’s  future. 

things.  He  has  fallen  in  love  with  European  life.  He 
is  gradually  introducing  more  civilized  customs.  Fifteen 
years  ago  every  Frank  traveller  walking  the  streets  of 
Cairo,  w’earing  a  European  or  American  hat  or  coat,  was 
liable  to  he  spit  upon  and  bespattered  with  mud.  Now 
any  man  can  travel  from  Alexandria  to  Thebes  with  per¬ 
fect  safety,  provided  he  have  a  sound  cane  and  an  arm  to 
*  use  it.  The  time  may  come  when  the  soul  and  genius 
of  old  Egypt  shall  pass  into  a  new  people,  and  her  soil 
be  again  strewn  with  works  of  greatness.  Then  ‘‘  the 
day  shall  come  when  the  Lord  of  hosts  shall  bless,  saying, 
Blessed  be  Egypt  my  people.”  Isaiah  19  ;  25. 


82 


EOUTE  TO  JERUSALEM. 


CHAPTER  V. 


/rnm  (Kgtipt  tn  tjiB  Ibh. 


The  more  direct  route  between  Egypt  and  Jerusalem 
is  that  over  Gaza,  whose  doors  Samson  carried  off,  and 
through  the  land  of  the  Philistines,  lying  along  the 
shores  of  the  Mediterranean  Sea.  This  passes  through 
a  region  less  scant  in  water  and  grass  than  that  over 
Suez  and  Mount  Sinai.  Here  and  there  a  village  is 
found  where  provision  can  be  bought.  The  distance 
is  about  300  miles,  and  requires  from  twelve  to  fifteen 
days.  Horses  and  asses  are  used  here ;  while  only 
camels  can  be  used  on  the  other  route.  Abraham  “  went 
down  into  Egypt  ”  over  this  route  ;  and  the  sons  of  Israel 
came  to  buy  corn  by  the  same  way.  “  Their  asses  ” 
could  not  have  borne  their  burdens  over  the  waterless 
and  more  deserted  district  of  Sinai.  When  crops  fail  in 
Canaan,  they  still  come  ‘‘  down  to  buy  corn  in  Egypt,” 
and  transport  it  on  these  long-eared,  big-headed  little 
animals.  Flocks  of  them  are  met  on  this  road,  laden 
with  sacks  of  wheat,  whose  drivers,  with  their  switches, 
constantly  remind  one  of  the  sons  of  Jacob.  “  Joseph 
went  up  to  bury  his  father,”  ‘‘with  chariots  and  horse¬ 
men,”  “a  very  great  company;”  a  long,  sad  funeral- 
train  dragged  its  solemn  length  after  the  embalmed 
corpse  of  the  good  old  man  for  over  300  miles,  ere 
they  reached  his  grave.  Joseph  and  the  Virgin  must 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  A  JOURNEY.  83 

have  fled  to  Egypt  the  same  way.  Doubtless  this  road 
was  much  travelled  in  the  days  of  Moses,  and  well-known 
to  him.  But  God  led  them  not  through  the  way  of  the 
land  to  the  Philistines,  although  that  would  have  been 
much  nearer. 

A  journey  over  the  track  of  the  Hebrews,  past  the  Bed 
Sea  and  Mount  Sinai,  is  more  of  an  undertaking,  being 
nearly  again  as  far.  I  had  the  good  fortune  of  meeting 
a  congenial  companion,  Bev.  Joseph  B.  Mann,  from  New 
York.  I  trust  he  will  pardon  me  for  introducing  his 
name  here,  since  I  am  indebted  for  much  of  the  success, 
profit,  and  enjoyment  of  this  part  of  my  journey,  to  this 
intelligent  and  pious  Christian  gentleman.  To  a  mind 
richly  stored  with  sacred  lore,  he  added  the  warm  and 
genial  sympathies  of  that  ‘‘  faith  which  worketh  by  love.” 
Companions  on  such  a  pilgrimage,  mingling  their  prayers 
and  praises,  tears  and  joys,  amid  scenes  and  altars  of 
such  holy  renown,  form  ties  lasting  and  sacred  as  the 
religion  which  they  commemorate.  May  our  Almighty 
Master  soon  restore  him  to  that  bodily  vigor,  which  he 
so  patiently,  but  alas  !  vainly  sought  in  a  foreign  clime, 
and  permit  him  to  use  his  rare  talents  in  the  service  of 
His  kingdom  and  for  the  salvation  of  souls. 

We  employed  Ahmed  Saide,  an  efficient  and  intelligent 
dragoman,  who  has  been  in  the  service  of  Bayard  Taylor 
and  other  noted  Eastern  travellers.  He  was  to  take  us 
over  the  Mount  Sinai  route  to  Jerusalem,  thence  through 
Palestine  and  Syria,  to  Damascus,  Baalbeck,  and  Beirut, 
furnishing  us  with  boarding,  beasts  of  burden,  guards, 
and  every  thing  else  which  necessarily  belongs  to  such  a 
journey,  for  the  sum  of  $1,500.  Small  parties  are 
always  more  expensive,  while  large  ones  have  more 
wishes  and  tastes  to  gratify,  and  in  the  end  are  more 


81 


'LEAVE  CAIRO. 


liable  to  dissatisfaction.  In  a  few  days  Abrned  had 
fitted  up  his  tents,  and  laid  in  his  necessary  store  of  pro¬ 
vision.  Our  desert  apparel  consisted  of  turbaned  grey 
felt  hats,  pantaloons  overlaid  with  gazelle  leather,  soft, 
uncolored  shoes,  red  flannel  shirts,  a  black,  coarse  bur¬ 
nouse,  like  a  cloak  with  a  cowl  or  cap  to  it,  a  fez  or  little 
round  red  cap  with  a  long  black  tassel  on  the  crown,  and 
of  course  an  umbrella  to  keep  the  sun  off. 

Arrayed  in  this  fantastic  garb,  we  bade  adieu  to  our 
host  on  the  morning  of  the  14th  of  March,  and  ap¬ 
proached  our  camels,  kneeling  under  the  shade-trees  in 
front  of  his  mansion.  We  were  now  going  into  a  coun¬ 
try  where  the  camel  was  the  only  vehicle  of  travel.  On 
a  saddle-frame,  rudely  nailed  together,  to  fit  on  the 
hump  of  his  back,  were  a  pile  of  rags,  mats,  carpets, 
comforts,  and  camel  bags  made  of  carpet  material.  All 
this  raised  our  seats  into  a  region  to  which  few  carriages 
or  riders  of  other  countries  can  aspire.  My  first  effort 
at  mounting  a  camel  came  well  nigh  proving  a  failure. 
The  brute  sprang  to  his  feet  with  such  a  sudden  pitching 
motion  as  to  give  me  no  little  trouble  to  cleave  to  his 
back.  After  leaning  over  our  lofty  seats,  and  pressing 
the  hands  of  a  few  friends,  our  ‘‘  Ships  of  the  Desert  ” 
slowly  sailed  through  a  neighboring  gate,  then  through  a 
series  of  rank  cactus  fields,  and  at  once  entered  upon  the 
sterile  desert.  On  a  rising  hill  we  passed  a  large  burial- 
place,  full  of  rude  stones  and  grave-marks.  No  tree  nor 
blade  of  grass  was  seen.  The  gravelly  earth  looked  as 
dead  and  dreary  as  the  graves.  In  a  few  hours  we  met 
our  burden  camels  and  their  drivers,  who  had  started  the 
previous  evening.  On  an  eminence,  about  eight  miles 
from  Cairo,  we  looked  back  for  the  last  time  on  the 
dream-like  scenes  we  were  leaving.  The  windmills, 


ANNOYANCES  OF  CAIRO. 


85 


minarets,  and  mosques  stood  prominently  above  the  city ; 
the  Pyramids  rose  out  of  their  sand-field  against  the  sky, 
seeming  to  swim  in  the  dry,  dense  haze,  the  whole  look¬ 
ing  more  like  a  dream-land  than  a  reality.  And  now  we 
turn  our  faces  over  devious  paths  toward  the  Land  of 
Promise,  perhaps  never  to  see  these  land-marks  of  Old 
Time  again. 

Those  who  have  never  tried  it,  would  scarcely  imagine 
with  what  a  light  and  joyous  heart  one  enters  upon  this 
desert  journey.  Deducting  its  annoyances,  Cairo  is  a 
very  interesting  city  for  a  few  weeks’  study.  But  the 
crooked,  crowded  streets,  with  stores  half  spilt  into  them, 
passing  over  houses  and  under  them ;  the  swarms  of 
rude,  impertinent  donkey-boys  with  their  braying  asses — 
the  cabs  and  cabmen  of  Cairo,  alike  the  most  useful  and 
the  most  pestering  of  necessary  evils  in  this  part  of  the 
world  —  hungry  fleas,  flies,  and  a  rich  remnant  of  the 
third  plague  of  Pharaoh,  are  too  much  for  a  man  of 
ordinary  powers  of  endurance  to  bear  without  discomfort. 
Before  such  an  array  of  foes,  flight  is  wiser  than  resist¬ 
ance.  Then,  too,  there  is  something  fascinating  in  the 
prospect  of  getting  away  for  once  from  the  busy  hive 
and  drive  of  men,  out  in  the  pure,  free  air  of  the  untried 
desert,  where  you  can  step  out  of  the  old  beaten  paths 
of  formal  customs  and  conventionalities.  Here  no  fenced- 
up  road  or  forbidden  path  restricts  your  plans,  but  the 
wide,  wide  waste  is  open  and  free  to  your  wandering 
predilections.  Wherever  fancy  may  lead  you,  and  the 
smooth  earth  offer  you  a  soft  bed,  you  can  pitch  your 
tent,  and  with  a  gun  by  your  side,  call  it  your  own  for 
the  night. 

Our  caravan  numbered  fifteen  men  in  all.  The  gene¬ 
ral-in-chief  was  our  dragoman,  Ahmed  Saide,  a  Theban 
8 


86 


AN  EGYPTIAN  COOK. 


by  birth.  He  was  a  true  specimen  of  a  thorough-bred 
Egyptian.  Though  naturally  very  intelligent,  he  could 
neither  read  nor  write.  He  told  us  he  had  only  one  wife, 
nearly  white,  and  an  interesting  son,  nine  years  old, 
whom  he  has  already  betrothed  to  a  cousin.  ’  He  says 
his  wife  wishes  ‘‘to  be  glad”  in  the  marriage  festivities 
and  happy  family  of  her  son  before  she  dies.  Waiting 
till  children  are  so  old,  he  remarked,  often  deprives  pa¬ 
rents  of  these  enjoyments.  He  thinks  he  will  let  him 
marry  in  a  year  or  two,  and  is  now  already  educating 
him  for  the  Mahommedan  Priesthood.  Arrayed  in  fine 
Eastern  costume,  with  two  five-barrel  revolvers  in  his 
belt,  a  gun  and  long  sword  hung  to  his  saddle,  he  forms 
one  of  the  most  prominent  and  picturesque  personages  in 
the  group.  Mahommed  Abdraghman,  our  cook,  was  also 
an  Egyptian.  He  had  but.  one  eye,  dark  mulatto  com¬ 
plexion,  was  pock-marked,  and  past  middle  life.  He  was 
a  kind-hearted  man,  of  few  words,  and  by  a  long  and 
faithful  service  in  his  department  of  earthly  usefulness, 
has  rendered  himself  famous  as  a  preparer  of  savory 
dishes.  In  this  way  he  has  aided  the  investigations  of 
modern  science,  in  that  he  was  cook  for  Lepsius,  the 
leader  of  the  celebrated  Prussian  scientific  expedition  to 
,  Egypt.  Poor  fellow !  he  can  never  write  his  name,  much 
less  a  book ;  but  a  man  that  prepares  healthful  food  for 
one  who  labors  in  the  cause  of  science,  helps  to  give 
spring  and  vigor  to  his  mind,  and  humbly  contributes 
his  mite  to  the  great  cause  of  human  improvement. 
Then  we  had  Firage,  our  waiter,  a  Nubian  boy,  nearly 
grown,  jet  black  and  jovial,  a  real  jolly  negro.  Ahmed 
bought  him  with  his  mother;  but  since  the  Pasha  has 
abolished  slavery,  he  remains  with  his  kind  master  from 
choice.  Our  caravan  consisted  of  ten  camels,  led  by 


OUR  BEDOUIN  GUARD. 


87 


ten  swarthy  Bedouins,  one  of  whom  acted  as  sheikh  or 
captain.  They  were  armed  with  short  swords,  bowie- 
knives  and  guns,  •which,  added  to  their  native  looks  of 
untrained  wildness,  were  anything  but  suggestive  of 
pleasant  thoughts.  Their  shaven  heads  were  stuck  in  a 
clumsy  turban,  coiled  round  the  temples  like  a  heavy 
twisted  towel.  Their  little  piercing  eagle  eyes  peered 
out  of  their  sunken  sockets,  giving  them  a  contemplative 
and  mysterious  look.  And  these  are  to  be  our  only  pro¬ 
tectors  on  this  unsheltered  wilderness !  Nothing  ven¬ 
tured  nothing  won.  “  If  God  be  for  us,  who  shall  he 
against  us?”  As  we  rode  up  to  them,  they  sullenly 
greeted  us  with  the  customary  “Peace  be  with  thee,” 
touching  the  breast,  lips,  and  forehead  with  the  right 
hand.  Going  into  a  region  where  no  provision,  save  an 
occasional  lamb  or  kid,  could  be  bought,  we  took  with 
us  a  supply :  two  large  casks  of  filtered  Nile  water, 
which  was  all  the  good  water  we  had  for  nearly  two 
weeks ;  a  chicken  coop  with  thirty  chickens,  and  several 
turkeys,  besides  all  the  indispensable  little  table,  kitchen, 
and  bed  conveniences,  crammed  into  bags,  bales,  and 
chests,  were  piled  and  hung  on  our  slow  train. 

■  The  face  of  the  country  between  Cairo  and  the  Red 
Sea  is  not  a  sandy  waste,  as  some  imagine,  hut  a  coarse, 
pebbly  soil,  hard  and  barren.  Not  a  foot  of  cultivated 
land.  The  surface  is  uneven,  varying  into  low,  rolling 
hills.  Low  bushes  of  hashish^  a  species  of  pale,  rough, 
woody  grass,  were  seen  here  and  there,  and  after  long 
intervals,  a  thorn  tree.  Our  road  was  a  broad,  beaten 
track,  smooth  and  "well  used,  running  straight  as  a  rail¬ 
way  over  a  prairie.  Travelling  over  it,  I  had  often  to 
think  of  the  road  which  the  forerunner  of  Christ  was  to 
prepare,  and  “  make  straight  in  the  desert  a  highway 


88 


THE  MIRAGE. 


for  our  God.”  Isaiah  40  :  3.  The  ‘‘stones”  and  “stum¬ 
bling  blocks  ”  were  piled  on  heaps  by  the  roadside.  -Isaiah 
62  :  10.  No  human  dwelling  is  found  along  the  road, 
save  telegraphic  posts  at  intervals  of  five  miles.  These 
consist  of  a  walled  enclosure,  for  the  accommodation  of 
travellers,  and  have  a  few  soldiers  to  protect  them.  All 
the  Anglo-Indian  travel  passes  over  this  road,  which  ac¬ 
counts  for  its  improved  condition.  But  the  country 
through  which  it  passes  is  a  most  perfect  desolation, 
with  no  blade  of  verdure  to  relieve  its  dreariness.  Far 
as  the  eye  can  reach,  the  scene  is  bare  and  barren.  No 
beast  or  bird  is  seen,  except  vultures  of  enormous  size, 
preying  on  the  carcasses  of  camels  that  perished  by  the 
way. 

We  passed  large  caravans  from  Suez,  laden  with  India 
merchandise.  One  numbered  190  camels.  The  second 
day  we  saw  mirage  for  the  first  time.  The  tepid  water 
in  our  leathern  bottles,  hung  to  each  one’s  saddle,  was 
already  becoming  tasteless,  when  a  lake  of  fresh  water 
would  have  been  very  refreshing.  Scarcely  a  mile  from 
us  large  lakes  suddenly  appeared,  fringed  with  trees, 
but  always  flaked  away  into-  nothing  as  we  approached 
them.  It  seems  this  illusion  is  produced  by  an  unequal 
refraction  of  the  lower  strata  of  the  atmosphere. 

One,  unaccustomed  to  this  mode  of  travelling,  can 
hardly  conceive  how  all  the  causes  and  effects  of  home 
comforts,  animate  and  inanimate,  in  all  their  details,  can 
be  carried  on  camels.  After  spending  nine  and  ten 
hours  on  these  animated  rocking  chairs,  a  convenient 
spot  is  selected  to  encamp.  The  Arabs  jerk  at  the  halt¬ 
ers  and  blow  through  their  teeth  to  bring  the  camels 
down  on  their  knees.  The  baggage  is  untied,  a  bale  un¬ 
rolled,  and  lo !  it  swells  and  spires  up  into  a  full-grown 


DESERT  ENCAMPMENT. 


89 


and  graceful  tent.  The  nimble  Arabs  run  from  rope  to 
rope,  fastened  to  wooden  pins  which  they  drive  into  the 
earth.  In  half  an  hour,  we  have  a  neatly  furnished 
dwelling,  and  can  take  a  gentle  siesta  on  our  bed-sofas. 
Kind  reader,  hast  thou  ever  been  tired  ?  If  thou  hast 
never  endured  the  swinging  gait  of  a  camel  beneath  an 
Eastern  sun,  with  only  warm  water  to  drink  for  ten  con¬ 
secutive  hours,  I  doubt  whether  thou  knowest  what  it 
is  to  be  weary.  We  step  down  from  our  camels,  and  at 
once  recline  on  the  earth  for  rest.  A  few  moments  bring 
sleep  and  dreams  of  far-off  friends  and  home,  which  are 
soon  dispelled  by  a  shout  from  Ahmed,  telling  us  that 
the  tent  is  ready.  In  the  meanwhile,  another  bale  ex¬ 
pands  into  kitchen  proportions,  with  all  the  unnameable 
array  of  pan,  pot,  and  kettle  furniture,  in  full  blast. 
The  camels  browse  among  the  dry  desert  bushes,  the 
chickens,  running  at  large,  cackle  merrily  around  our 
camp,  giving  our  newly-acquired  desert  premises  quite  a 
cozy  rural  aspect.  Presently  Firage  spreads  the  table, 
and  then  comes  the  pleasanter  part  of  our  adventures. 

The  camels  are  brought  to  the  tents  and  made  to 
kneel  around  them  in  a  circle.  Within  the  circle,  ram¬ 
parts  are  formed  with  camel-saddles  and  luggage  —  an 
intrenchment  on  a  small  scale.  In  the  centre  of  the 
small  enclosure  the  Arabs  kindle  a  brush-fire.  While 
the  rest  are  seated  around  it,  one  will  mix  unbolted 
ground  barley  with  water,  in  a  wooden  dish,  make  a 
large  cake  and  cover  it  with  the  coals.  Of  course  these 
large  cakes  are  unleavened,  and  made  with  little  trouble. 
The  kneading  and  baking  is  in  perfect  keeping  with 
Sarah’s  plan :  Make  ready  three  measures  of  fine 

meal,  knead  it,  and  make  cakes  upon  the  hearth.”  Gen. 
18:6.  And  the  Hebrews,  somewhere  in  this  region, 
8* 


90  THEDESERT  AT  NIGHT. 

‘‘baked  unleavened  cakes.”  Ex.  12:  39.  In  the  morn¬ 
ing,  they  soak  the  dry  remains  of  the  previous  evening, 
sometimes  each  “dipped  a  sop”  into  the  dish  of  water. 
John  13  :  26.  This  is  their  best  and  worst  fare,  in  the 
strength  of  which  they  walk  ten  and  twelve  hours  with¬ 
out  any  perceptible  fatigue.  Their  supper  over,  they 
smoke  their  long  pipes,  reclining  round  the  fire.  We  sit 
in  the  cool  of  the  evening  before  the  door  of  the  tent. 
A  soothing  coolness  pervades  the  air,  fresh  without  being 
cold,  a  temperature  unlike  any  in  more  northern  or  more 
southern  climes.  The  stars  look  so  pretty  and  pure, 
that  one  never  wearies  in  looking  at  them.  While  look¬ 
ing,  we  listen  to  the  awful  hush  of  the  desert.  No  bay¬ 
ing  watch-dog,  or  buzz  of  bug  or  insect  is  heard — nought 
but  the  silence  of  solitude,  only  broken  by  an  occasional 
suppressed  sound  of  an  Arab’s  remark,  or  the  petulant 
murmur  of  a  camel.  Night  in  the  desert,  though  void 
of  the  sweet  music  of  rustling  leaves  and  chirping  crick¬ 
ets,  has  a  peculiar  charm.  Not  the  charm  of  novelty 
only,  but  of  delights  peculiarly  its  own.  The  vast,  life- 
deserted,  uninhabited  expanse  around  you,  the  starry 
heavens  above  you,  and  the  thought  of  being  alone  in 
this  land  of  awful  stillness,  give  you  feelings  which  can 
only  find  rest  in  worship.  Here,  more  than  in  any 
country  I  have  seen,  one  feels 

“How  beautiful  is  night! 

A  dewy  freshness  fills  the  silent  air.” 

Our  Bedouin  groups  watch  the  glowing  coals,  and  the 
smoke  curling  up  in  spiral  pillars.  One  after  another 
rolls  himself  up  in  his  coarse  blanket,  and  takes  special 
care,  to  cover  his  head,  that  the  moon  may  “not  smite 


BEDOUIN  WATCH-FIRE. 


91 


him  by  night.”  Psalm  121.:  6.  Their  turbans  wrapped 
thick  around  the  head  protect  them  against  the  sun  by 
day.  Here  they  sleep,  and  sleep  sweetly,  with  the  bare 
earth  for  their  bed,  the  sky  for  their  canopy,  while  a  few 
wake  in  turn  as  guards,  around  a  watch-fire,  and  beguile 
the  still  long  hours  of  night  in  humming  the  story  of 
Aboused,  a  noted  chieftain  of  their  tribe.  But  we  must 
see  this  whole  picture  in  detail,  and  so  we  steal  around 
the  enclosure  to  look  at  it.  All  is  still  as  the  grave. 
No  sound  of  life,  neither  cricket,  katydid,  nor  owl, 
is  heard.  Only  the  deep  long  breath  of  the  sleeping 
Bedouin,  and  the  drowsy,  careless  muttering  of  the 
guards.  Baggage,  chests,  chickens,  camels,  and  men 
huddled  together  in  moonlight,  tents  and  stars  around 
and  over  us,  friends  and  home  over  on  the  other  side  of 
the  earth,  now  in  broad  daylight,  finish  our  mental  pic¬ 
ture  for  the  day.  We  commit  ourselves  to  Israel’s 
keeper,  and  sweetly  sleep  in  our  frail  tabernacle,  leaving 
Him  to  attend  to  the  robbers  far  and  near. 

A  slight  fumbling  to  untie  the  string  of  our  curtain- 
door,  awakes  me;  and  in  peeps  the  black  head  of  Firage, 
showing  his  white  teeth,  and  blundering  a  “  good  morn¬ 
ing,”  which  simply  means,  “Please  get  up.”  Well,  we 
rise  with  the  sun.  We  read  a  chapter  or  two  from  the 
history  of  the  Exodus,  associated  with  our  brief  dwelling 
place,  and  commit  ourselves  in  prayer  to  Israel’s  guide 
While  taking  our  breakfast,  the  Bedouins  bale  and  pack 
our  affairs,  and  scarcely  have  we  passed  the  threshold 
ere  our  dwelling  falls  into  pieces,  and  shrinks  into  a  bale 
of  baggage.  How  often  this  reminded  me  of  the  disso¬ 
lution  of  our  earthly  house  !  “For  we  know  that  if  our 
earthly  house  of  this  tabernacle  were  dissolved,  we  have 
a  building  of  God,  an  house  not  made  with  hands,  eter- 


92 


MONOTONOUS  JOURNEY. 


nal  ill  tlie  heavens.”  2  Cor.  5  :  1.  While  the  loading 
is  going  on,  the  greatest  noise  and  confusion  prevail. 
Bedouins  shout  and  scold,  hunting,  pulling,  and  tying 
ropes;  and  while  the  baggage  is  tied  on,  the  kneeling 
camels  snarl  and  grunt  as  if  they  were  trying  to  die. 
In  a  few  moments  the  kitchen  is  locked  into  chests, 
furniture  into  hales  and  bundles,  chickens  into  the  coop, 
and  our  whole  unabiding  city  slowly  moving  towards  the 
promised  land.  Our  journey  is  monotonous.  We  meet 
neither  stream,  town,  nor  dwelling,  to  relieve  the  tedium. 
An  occasional  thorn  tree  is  quite  an  exciting  discovery. 
Should  we  happen  to  meet  one  of  these  about  noon,  we 
take  our  noonday  meal  in  the  shade.  The  latter  per¬ 
haps  consisting  of  a  cold  fowl,  with  a  few  figs  and 
oranges. 

Our  Bedouins  are  in  a  high  glee,  now  telling  stories, 
then  urging  their  camels,  by  praising  their  faithfulness 
in  little  songs,  and  promising  the  Prophet’s  blessing  if 
they  are  good,  and  much  kindness  when  they  get  home. 
In  all  my  travels,  I  noticed  but  one  instance  where  a 
Bedouin  beat  his  camel.  Ours  were  treated  with  the 
tenderest  kindness,  whether  from  motives  of  affection  or. 
gain,  I  know  not.  A  slight  tap  would  raise  the  ire  of 
my  leader,  with  the  impatient  “la,  la”  (no,  no).  Ever¬ 
more,  he  would  stroke  and  pat  the  uncomely  beast,  even 
praise  him  for  his  faults,  and  would  hear  nothing  about 
him  but  “taib,  taib”  (good,  good).  As  for  their  external 
appearance,  the  camel  was  rather  the  better  looking  of 
the  two.  His  halter  was  studded  with  shells  of  different 
colors,  and  his  long-haired  garment  looked  none  the 
worse  for  being  unwashed.  That  part  of  the  Arab 
which  boasted  of  clothing,  was  covered  with  a  garment 
of  less  cleanly  pretensions.  The  first  day,  my  leader 


BEDOUIN  COSTUME. 


93 


made  a  suit  while  he  led  his  camelj  with  a  view,  as  he 
said,  of  taking  his  wife  by  surprise  in  his  new  and  white 
apparel.  He  made  it  of  coarse  unbleached  muslin,  sowed 
it  together  without  any  cutting  whatever  —  a  proficiency 
in  the  sewing  art  to  which  few  of  his  craft  of  fairer  skin 
nave  attained.  But  a  Bedouin’s  wardrobe  is  very  simple 
in  its  make.  His  whole  apparel  is  nearly  equivalent  to 
the  shirt  of  his  white  brother,  only  that  he  has  no  sleeves 
and  collar.  His  shoes  or  sandals  are  equally  simple  — 
a  piece  of  the  dry  skin  of  a  fish  tied  to  the  sole  of  the 
foot,  with  a  few  straps  (‘Matchets”)  of  the  same.  Some 
of  their  chiefs  still  have  servants,  the  lowest  and  most 
unworthy  of  whom  must  untie  their  sandals.  John  the 
Baptist  compares  himself  with  one  of  these,  in  the  ser¬ 
vice  of  Christ :  “  The  latchet  of  whose  shoes  I  am  not 
worthy  to  stoop  down  and  unloose.”  Luke  3  :  16.  A 
figure  more  expressive  of  unworthiness  could  not  be  used 
in  the  East. 

The  first  day,  we  encamped  about  twenty-two  miles  from 
Cairo.  On  the  following  day,  our  track  ran  parallel  to  Mt. 
Attakah,  and  several  miles  from  its  base.  It  is  supposed 
by  some  that  the  Hebrews  approached  the  Red  Sea  along 
this  mountain.  We  met  a  number  of  cabs  conveying 
India  passengers  from  Suez  to  Cairo  (a  distance  of  eighty 
miles) — a  most  uncomfortable,  nondescript  vehicle,  with 
two  wheels  under  a  large  board  box.  The  third  morn¬ 
ing  we  passed  ‘‘Ajerud,”  a  station  for  the  Mecca  pil¬ 
grims,  and  which  Stanley  thinks  may  possibly  mark  the 
site  of  Pi-hahiroth.  Ex.  14  :  2.  A  fortified  wall  formed 
an  enclosure  for  protection,  containing  the  tomb  of  a 
Mohammedan  saint.  Without  was  a  well  of  bitter 
water.  North  and  south  of  us  were  bald  red  mountain 
chains,  running  parallel  with  the  road,  four  or  five  miles 


94 


SUEZ. 


distant.  At  noon,  we  lunched  in  the  shade  of  a  tele¬ 
graphic  tower,  or  post  station.  We  saw  the  Red  Sea 
several  hours  before  we  reached  its  shore ;  but  the  mi¬ 
rage  had  so  often  deceived  us  that  we  were  slow  to  trust 
its  appearance.  Finally,  we  arrived  at  Suez  in  the  early 
part  of  the  afternoon  of  our  fourth  day  from  Cairo. 
This  is  a  town  of  1400  inhabitants,  with  a  shattered 
wall  on  three  sides,  and  the  sea  on  th«  fourth.  Its  ap¬ 
pearance  is  not  unlike  a  large  khan  or  ‘‘inn.”  A  num¬ 
ber  of  strangely-constructed  boats,  great  and  small,  were 
lying  here.  The  timber  and  other  material  for  these 
vessels,  were  brought  from  Cairo  on  camels.  Some  of 
the  sailors  (Arabs,  Turks,  and  Chinese,)  were  sporting 
about  on  the  wharf ;  others  were  performing  their  devo¬ 
tions  on  the  decks,  it  being  3  p.  M.,  the  ninth  hour  of 
day,  while  a  party  of  India  Englishmen  were  perform¬ 
ing  their  ablutions  in  the  sea.  A  stroll  through  the 
bazaar  convinced  us  that,  in  point  of  filth  and  fleas,  it 
was  not  much  behind  the  other  towns  of  Egypt.  As 
this  was  the  last  place  deserving  the  name  of  a  town 
this  side  of  Hebron  and  Palestine,  from  which  we  were 
separated  by  one  month’s  travel,  Ahmed  added  to  his 
stock  of  provision.  Two  hours  gave  us  all  that  we 
wished  to  see  or  buy  in  this  filthy  port  of  India  travel. 

The  town  of  Suez  is  situated  on  the  Red  Sea,  a 
few  miles  from  its  northern  extremity.  Part  of  our  cara¬ 
van  w'as  sent  directly  around  the  head  of  the  gulf  to 
meet  us  on  the  opposite  side.  We  hired  a  boat  to  ferry 
us  directly  across,  it  being  about  a  half  or  three-quarters 
of  a  mile  wide  here.  Our  clumsy  craft  ran  aground 
before  we  reached  the  shore,  whereupon  two  brawny 
Bedouins  acted  boat  and  pilot.  Each  seizing  a  leg,  they 
held  me  tremblingly  above  the  water,  pushed  and  stag- 


THE  RED  SEA. 


05 


gered  through  the  swelling  surf,  and  filling  me  with 
thoughts  of  an  unwilling  plunge  into  the  briny  deep.  In 
the  meanwhile  one  of  our  Bedouins  brought  the  camels 
we  had  ridden  from  Suez  round  the  head  of  the  sea.  It 
being  low  tide,  the  poor  fellow  concluded  to  take  a  near 
cut,  thinking  it  to  be  the  natural  depth  of  the  water. 
He  literally  worked  against  wind  and  tide,  the  waves 
still  rising  around  him  as  he  looked  wishfully  and  sorrow¬ 
fully  toward  the  shore.  The  slow  camels,  the  welling 
rising  tide,  the  waves  and  his  short  legs,  as  he  said, 
nearly  proved  his  ruin.  Bonaparte,  in  his  expedition  to 
Egypt,  attempted  to  ford  the  sea,  perhaps  to  show  that 
it  could  be  crossed  without  the  intervention  of  a  miracle. 
It  was  about  getting  dark,  and  the  tide  rose  and  flowed 
more  rapidly  than  he  had  expected.  Though  he  had 
guides  with  him,  his  rash  attempt  was  soon  rebuked  by 
the  waters,  from  which  he  narrowly  escaped  with  his 
life. 

Our  Arab  boatmen  dropped  us  on  the  shore  of  Arabia 
and  Asia.  This  strip  of  water,  the  Gulf  of  Suez,  the 
western  arm  of  the  Bed  Sea,  is  the  boundary  between 
Asia  and  Africa.  While  waiting  for  our  wave-ridden 
Bedouin,  \ve  picked  up  shells,  viewed  the  sea  up  and 
down  the  coast,  and  thought  and  spoke  of  the  fugitive 
Hebrews  crossing  it  somewhere  in  sight.  For  three 
hours  we  rode  southward,  along  a  path  nearly  parallel 
with  the  sea,  over  a  plain  of  rough  gravel  and  sand.  The 
sea  was  in  view,  and  of  the  sea  we  spoke  and  thought,  for 
it  is  still  the  great  mounment  of  God’s  willingness  to  in¬ 
terpose  in  behalf  of  his  people.  We  reached  Ayoun 
Mousa  (the  wells  of  Moses),  an  hour  after  sunset  (7  p.  m). 

It  was  a  long  and  weary  day’s  journey,  and  yet  a 
weariness  full  of  the  most  delightful  interest  and  satis- 


96 


SUNDAY  AT  SUEZ. 


faction.  Soon  Mohammed,  our  patient  cook,  fanned  his 
charcoal-fire  before  his  tent,  and  got  his  pans  simmering 
and  steaming  with  incipient  dishes.  Our  temporal  wants 
attended  to,  'we  strolled  around  the  tents,  meditating  and 
wondering  over  the  strange  things  that  happened  here 
more  than  three  thousand  years  ago. 

A  singular  place  is  this,  where  we  shall  tarry  over 
Sabbath,  the  only  green  spot  this  side  of  Cairo.  Here  is 
a  green  island  of  tamarisk  trees  in  this  treeless  Desert, 
growing  among  seventeen  wells — holes  scooped  out  of  the 
earth  from  four  to  six  feet  deep.  A  vegetable  garden, 
belonging  to  the  English  Consul-General  at  Suez,  adds 
to  its  cheerfulness,  all  refreshed  and  fertilized  by  the 
wells.  I  believe  the  place  is  not  mentioned  in  the  Bible. 
But  as  it  certainly  lies  within  the  range  of  the  Hebrew 
Passage,  it  is  natural  that  tradition  and  conjecture  should 
assign  it  a  place  in  that  memorable  scene.  It  is  reputed 
to  have  been  the  first  stopping-place  after  they  reached 
the  opposite  shore,  where  Moses  and  Miriam  composed 
and  sang  their  songs.  Ex.  15.  We  read  them  during 
our  evening  devotions  so  as  we  had  never  read  them 
before. 

The  next  day  was  the  Sabbath.  Our  tents  were  half 
an  hour  from  the  sea.  There  we  read,  sang,  prayed, 
and  spoke  together.  At  our  arrival  the  evening  before, 
we  met  a  Mr.  Smith  and  lady  from  London,  who  asked 
the  privilege  of  worshipping  with  us.  Some  of  our 
Bedouins  sat  a  short  distance  from  our  tents  listening, 
with  apparent  wonder,  to  our  praises.  Standing  in  sight 
of  the  sea,  we  sang  Watts’  version  of  the  121st  Psalm, 
“  Upward  I  lift  mine  eyes.”  Here,  under  the  scorching 
Bun  of  a  southern  clime,  in  a  sterile,  inhospitable  waste. 


ATTAKAH  AND  DERAJ. 


97 


one  finds  great  relief  in  pouring  out  his  heart  through 
such  stanzas  as  the  third  of  this  Psalm. 

“No  burning  heats  by  day, 

Nor  blasts  of  evening  air, 

Shall  take  my  health  away, 

If  God  be  with  me  there. 

Thou  art  my  sun,  and  thou  my  shade, 

To  guard  my  head  by  night  or  noon.^^ 

In  the  afternoon  we  strolled  along  the  beach,  musing 
over  the  scene.  Immediately  opposite  two  mountain 
ranges,  Attakah  and  Deraj,  receded  from  the  sea,  form¬ 
ing  a  valley,  through  which  occurred  the  traditional  ap¬ 
proach  of  the  Hebrews.  The  more  northern  range  forms 
an  angle  with  the  sea  on  the  north  side,  of  perhaps  thirty 
or  forty  degrees.  Here  some  locate  the  Passage. 
Others  again  would  have  it  nearer  Suez,  where  it  is  only 
a  mile  or  two  wide.  Then  there  are  places  w^here  it  can 
be  forded  during  low  tide,  where  modern  Rationalists 
get  the  Hebrews  across  without  the  intervention  of  mir¬ 
aculous  power.  But  unfortunately  for  their  theory,  the 
gulf  is  so  narrow  here  that  one  cannot  see  how  the 
host  of  Pharaoh,  with  the  chariots  and  horsemen,”  could 
all  be  pressed  in  at  one  time,  so  as  to  be  covered  with  the 
water.  Robinson  thinks  the  arm  of  the  sea  was  anciently 
wider  and  deeper  here.  But,  even  admitting  this,  it  is 
hard  to  see  how  they  could  have  been  entangled”  here, 
unless  we  suppose  the  Egyptians  to  have  surrounded  them 
in  a  semicircle. 

To  my  mind,  the  second  passage  named  is  by  far  the 
most  in  accordance  with  the  narrative.  Mount  Attakah, 
forming  the  above-named  angle,  meets  the  sea  some 
eight  or  ten  miles  below  Suez.  Toward  this  corner  the 
large  affrighted  multitude  of  Moses  was  moving.  Eight 
9  Q 


98 


TJIE  HEBREW  PASSAGE. 


or  ten  miles  furtlier  north  they  might  have  rounded 
the  gulf  on  dry  ground ;  hut  Moses  was  told  to  lead 
them  between  Migdol  and  the  sea.  Why?  Going  down 
on  this  side  of  the  sea  towards  Mount  Attakah,  ‘‘Pha¬ 
raoh  will  say,  they  are  entangled  in  the  land,  the  wil¬ 
derness  hath  shut  them  in,”  with  the  rugged  mountain 
before  them  and  on  the  right,  himself  and  his  army 
behind  them,  and  the  sea  on  their  left.  At  Suez  and 
above  it,  the  sea  is  from  three-quarters  to  a  mile  in 
width.  South  of  Attakah,  at  the  valley  first  mentioned, 
it  is  twelve  miles  wide.  Northward  its  breadth  dimin¬ 
ishes  as  you  approach  Suez.  Ex.  14., 

Wherever  they  may  have  crossed,  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  our  view,  from  where  we  stood  on  the  beach 
that  Sabbath  afternoon,  extended  over  a  scope  which 
included  the  passage.  Fancy  the  vast  multitude,  two 
millions  of  souls,  approaching  the  sea  at  nightfall,  right 
along  the  opposite  shore,  upbraiding  Moses.  They  had 
been  travelling  three  long  and  hard  days  ;  hungry,  weary, 
and  disheartened.  They  heard  the  Egyptians  pursuing, 
though  “  not  near  ”  yet.  Night  was  on  them  ;  they  were 
shut  in  by  the  sea  and  the  mountain.^  Then  the  vast 
multitude  pours  its  murmuring  complaints  on  this  meek 
and  mighty  Moses,  the  servant  of  the  most  high  God, 
for  leading  them  into  such  a  dilemma.  He  approached 
the  shore,  raised  his  arm,  and  lo  !  the  east  wind  divided 
the  waters.  “And  the  children  of  Israel  went  into  the 
midst  of  the  sea  upon  dry  ground ;  and  the  waters  were 
a  wall  unto  them  on  their  right  hand  and  on  their  left.” 
They  crossed  and  crowded  on  the  opposite  bank  and 
plain,  perhaps  where  we  stand,  for  they  must  have 
covered  an  area  of  miles  around.  The  Egyptians,  with 
carriage,  horse,  and  footmen,  dash  in  after  them.  Then 


OVERTHROW  OF  THE  EGYPTIANS. 


99 


the  Lord  overthrew  them  in  the  midst  of  the  sea,  cover¬ 
ing  the  charints  and  horsemen  and  all  the  host  of  Pha¬ 
raoh  that  came  into  the  sea  after  them.”  The  falling 
tide  left  the  dead  Egyptians  strewn  upon  the  sea  shore. 
“  The  Egyptian  whom  they  had  seen  yesterday,  they  will 
see  no  more  forever.”  The  sea  and  shores  bear  such 
a  matter-o^-fact  appearance,  that  it  requires  but  little 
effort  of  fancy  to  bring  the  whole  vividly  before  your 
mind.  The  sun  set  behind  a  transparent  cloud,  which 
hung  the  heavens  with  colors  like  a  fiery  drapery,  and 
reflected  a  broad  road  of  rosy  light  across  the  dark  blue 
sea.  Methought  such  a  light-path,  the  pillar  of  fire  ” 
must  have  laid  on  the  sea,  to  one  standing  on  the  oppo¬ 
site  shore  on  that  eventful  night. 

This  Red  Sea  Sabbath  closed  less  peacefully  than  it 
began.  While  quietly  sitting  in  our  tent  at  night-fall, 
we  heard  a  quick  breath  of  air,  a  few  heavy  drops  of 
rain,  then  sudden  puffs  of  wind  blew  in  the  side  of  the 
tent.  Rather  let  the  house  go  than  be  crushed  or  carried 
off  with  it.  For  a  moment  I  vainly  held  it  up,  then  we 
sprang  through  the  curtain-door,  without  untying  the 
cord.  The  air  was  full  of  sand,  hailing  and  rattling  on 
head  and  house.  The  tent  reeled  and  flapped  to  and  fro 
under  the  torturing  grip  of  the  storm.  The  cord-pins 
flew  out  of  the  moistened  sand  ;  once  the  i  opes  were 
loose  the  storm  had  it  all  its  own  way.  Every  moment 
I  expected  to  see  our  house  fleeing  from  us.  Meanwhile 
Ahmed  tried  to  make  his  orders  heard  above  the  noise 
of  the  “howling  wilderness.”  The  Bedouins  fought  man¬ 
fully,  some  holding  on  to  the  cords,  others  trying  to 
throw  new  ones  over  the  central  pole,  others  again  driving 
new  pins  into  the  sand,  all  wildly  shouting  and  running 
around,  like  men  trying  to  defy  the  elements.  Here 


100 


STOKM  ON  THE  RED  SEA. 


one  holding  on  to  his  turban,  there  one  flinging  his  arms 
about  in  a  phrenzj  of  excitement,  others  throwing  their 
blankets  over  head  to  shelter  them  against  the  sand, 
while  the  storm  blew  the  shreds  of  their  sooty  slips  in 
all  directions.  Yet  amid  this  savage  confusion  of  storm 
and  Bedouins,  every  man  seemed  to  know  what  he  was 
about,  and  did  something  that  had  to  be  done.  When 
the  storm  abated,  we  hardly  knew  whether  to  venture 
into  our  sorry  tent  for  the  balance  of  the  night.  We 
retired,  uncertain  whether  we  should  not  awake,  en¬ 
tangled  in  the  folds,  or  in  pursuit  of  our  fugitive  house. 
But  Israel’s  Keeper,  who  neither  sleepeth  nor  slumber- 
eth,”  kept  us  in  safety.  Our  house,  like  the  life  of  the 
foolish  man,  was  built  upon  the  sand,  in  which  the  cord- 
pins  would  not  hold  after  it  was  soaked.  “  The  rain 
descended,  and  the  winds  blew,  and  beat  upon  the  house, 
and  it  fell.”  Matt.  7  :  26,  27.  Every  one  caught  in  such 
a  pelting  sand-storm  in  the  desert  after  night,  will  know 
what  the  Bible  means  by  ‘‘  the  waste  howling  wilder¬ 
ness.”  Deut.  32  :  10. 


DESERT  ILLUSIONS. 


101 


CHAPTER  VI. 


/rnm  tti^  Eii  Ibh  tn  3fiDttnt  linai. 


March  1857.  — We  started  from  Ayoun  Mousa,  in 
company  with  our  English  friends.  In  the  wilderness 
one  will  not  stand  on  much  ceremony  for  an  acquaint¬ 
ance  when  you  meet  those  who  worship  your  God  and 
speak  your  language ;  nor  are  friendships  formed  here 
easily  broken  or  forgotten.  It  was  a  lovely  morning, — 
a  pleasant  relief  after  such  a  storm.  The  bracing  and 
balmy  air  laden  with  an  exhilarating  sea-breeze,  forced 
every  one  either  to  sing  or  talk.  Our  journey  led  us 
southward,  in  sight  of  the  sea,  whose  color  was  of  a 
dark  deep  blue,  excelling  in  beauty  any  of  the  Scotch  or 
Swiss  lakes  that  I  had  seen.  The  chain  of  mountains 
beyond  was  veiled  in  a  soft  bluish  light,  so  transparent 
that  they  seemed  more  like  the  unrolling  of  a  panorama 
than  a  reality.  Large  illusive  lakes  again  spread  out 
over  the  distant  plain,  skirted  with  lofty  trees.  As  we 
approached  them  the  water  vanished  into  air,  and  the 
trees  into  bushes  of  dry  desert  grass.  Four  or  five  miles 
east  of  us  was  a  range  of  mountains  of  a  brownish,  sand¬ 
stone  color,  running  parallel  to  the  sea.  The  next  day 
we  continued  in  the  same  direction.  The  trees  entirely 
disappeared  again,  and  naught  remained  but  hashish,  dry, 
leafless  grass,  resembling  small,  dead  brush-wood,  which 
our  camels  cropped  oif  with  no  little  zest.  A  marvellous 
9* 


102 


M  A  R  A  H  . 


masticating  machine  these  animals  have.  They  grind  up 
thorn-branches  full  of  sharp  pins,  as  eagerly  and  easily 
as  a  bunch  of  grass. 

Toward  noon  of  the  second  day,  we  descried  a  small 
clump  of  palm-trees  in  the  distance — a  sure  sign  of  water, 
either  above  or  below  ground.  Ahmed  at  once  said  it 
was  Marah.  On  a  small  elevation,  like  an  artificial  heap 
of  earth,  we  found  a  well,  five  or  six  feet  deep,  and  per¬ 
haps  as  many  feet  in  diameter,  with  about  two  feet  of 
water.  A  few  small  palm-trees  were  the  only  signs  of 
life  around  it.  Languid  and  thirsty,  having  carried  our 
warm  iTile  water  for  more  than  a  week  through  the  sun, 
and  panting  for  a  fresh  drink  as  the  hart  panteth  for  the 
water-brooks,  we  hastily  alighted  to  taste  our  new-found 
well.  But  who  could  drink  such  stuff?  Its  bitterness 
only  mocked  our  thirst ;  and  with  a  keen  feeling  of  dis¬ 
appointment,  perhaps  of  half-suppressed  murmuring,  we 
turned  to  our  leathern  bottles  for  a  tepid  draught.  “  So 
Moses  brought  Israel  from  the  Red  Sea,  and  they  went 
out  into  the  wilderness  of  Shur ;  and  they  went  three 
days  in  the  wilderness,  and  found  no  water.  And  when 
they  came  to  Marah,  they  could  not  drink  of  the  waters 
of  Marah ;  for  they  were  bitter ;  therefore  the  name  of 
it  was  called  Marah.”  Ex.  15  :  22,  2.3.  For  three  days 
they  had  travelled  without  water — a  great  multitude — at 
least  two  millions  of  souls — old  people  and  the  sick,  deli¬ 
cate  women,  with  their  infants,  trying  to  keep  up  with 
the  crowd,  all  trudging  over  the  hot  earth,  beneath  a 
burning  sun,  as  best  they  could.  We  can  imagine  how 
persons  burning  up,  and  delirious  with  fever,  would  cla¬ 
mor  and  beg  for  water  ;  how  children  shrieked  and  w^ailed 
in  the  arms  of  mothers,  until,  like  Hagar,  they  laid  them 
out  of  sight,  that  they  might  not  see  their  pitiful  and 


life’s  m arah. 


103 


distressing  end.  Strong  men  reeled  for  want  of  water. 
Then  came  the  welcome  news,  water.  Maim,”  the  Be- 
douin  still  cries,  and  reverently  praises  his  Allah  when 
the  precious  water  is  found.  Those  nearest  the  bitter 
pool  rush  to  get  a  draught,  but  turn  away  with  nauseous 
disgust.  The  report  of  its  bitterness  soon  spread  through 
the  camp,  and  the  languishing,  enfeebled  crowd,  gave 
vent  to  their  disappointment  in  murmurings  against 
Moses  ;  “  saying.  What  shall  we  drink  ?  ”  Though  sinful, 
under  the  circumstances,  it  was  human  to  murmur,  as 
those  will  find  who  travel  through  this  part  of  Arabia  in 
certain  seasons  of  the  year.  From  the  Wells  of  Moses, 
where  the  Hebrews  crossed  the  Red  Sea,  to  Marah,  it 
took  us  fifteen  hours,  which  would  make  the  distance 
about  thirty-five  miles.  So  great  and  turbulent  a  multi¬ 
tude  as  the  Hebrews,  would  at  least  require  ‘‘three  days  ” 
to  travel  such  a  distance. 

Weary  and  faint,  we  turned  away  from  Marah,  to  seek 
the  shadow  of  a  high  projecting  rock,  where  we  took  our 
noonday  repast ;  meanwhile  speaking  of  the  beautiful 
imagery  of  Isaiah,  foretelling  the  blessedness  of  Christ’s 
kingdom,  which  shall  be  “As  rivers  of  water  in  a  dry 
place,  as  the  shadow  of  a  great  rock  in  a  weary  land.” 
Isaiah  32  :  2. 

How  many  little  Marahs  we  encounter  in  life’s  pil¬ 
grimage  !  Bitter  waters  are  given  us  when  we  are  well- 
nigh  ready  to  perish.  Our  spirits  yearn  for  rest,  but  it 
comes  through  affliction  and  sorrow. 

“  E'en  the  rapture  of  pardon  is  mingled  with  fears, 

And  the  cup  of  thanksgiving  with  penitent  tears." 

Sometimes,  perhaps,  we  turn  away  from  the  cup  of  grief 
with  murmuring  impatience.  But  Christ  turns  our  Ma- 


104  HIGHWAYS  OF  THE  DESERT. 

♦ 

rahs  into  fountains  of  sweet  water.  When  God  opens 
our  eyes,  we  see,  like  Hagar,  a  gracious  “  well  of  water.^' 

When  we  ‘‘cry  unto  the  Lord,”  he  shows  us  “a  tree” 
which  makes  the  waters  sweet.  And  these  are  the  sweet 
uses  of  adversity — Marah — that  it  shows  us  the  healing 
tree  of  life,  Jesus  Christ. 

Towards  evening  we  encamped  in  Wady  Ghurundel — 
supposed  to  be  the  Elim  of  the  Bible.  Ex.  15  :  27.  The 
twelve  wells  are  no  longer  seen  ;  but  the  sand  is  saturated 
with  bitter  water,  where  our  Bedouins  scooped  out  small 
basins,  in  which  they  gathered  enough  to  water  their 
camels.  Numerous  tamarisk  bushes  are  scattered  over 
the  little  valley,  and  a  few  palm-trees — perhaps  the  lineal 
descendants  of  the  “  threescore  and  ten.” 

Hitherto  we  have  been  traversing  plains ;  to-day  we 
have  entered  into  the  intricate  mountain-texture  of  Sinai 
—  no  continuous  ranges,  but  short  arms,  meeting  and 
parting  at  every  conceivable  angle.  Their  bases  are 
never  far  apart ;  forming  narrow  valleys,  here  called 
wadys.  The  Bedouin  always  names  the  mountains  after 
the  wadys  which  surround  them.  They  are  not  like  our 
valleys,  but  rather  resemble  a  dry,  deep  river-bed,  from 
-  a  hundred  yards  to  a  mile  and  more  in  breadth.  Seem¬ 
ingly,  they  have  been  washed  or  worn  out  by  mountain 
torrents,  strewing  their  track  sometimes  with  large 
rocks,  and  giving  them  a  rough  surface ;  and  these  are 
again  traversed  by  smaller  water-courses.  These  crooked 
wadys  are  the  highways  of  the  wilderness  —  the  only 
means  of  communication  between  the  different  sections 
of  it.  No  tree  or  plant  is  seen  on  the  mountains,  save 
occasionally  a  stunted  thorn  in  some  secluded  nook, 
where  winter  torrents  have  left  disintegrated  rocks.  •• 
Here  we  wander  between  these  rugged  mountain  walls,  ^ 


WILDERNESS  OF  SINAI. 


105 


which  shut  out  every  breeze,  and  whose  bald  surface  in¬ 
tensifies  the  refiected  rajs  of  the  sun,  with  no  water  save 
the  tepid  remains  of  what  we  brought  from  Cairo  a  week 
ago.  Often  we  seem  to  come  to  the  end  of  the  road  by 
running  square  up  against  a  mountain ;  but  as  often  find 
a  way  out  through  some  deep  lateral  gorge.  Soon  an¬ 
other  blocks  up  our  path.  So  we  shift  and  shirk,  like  a 
ship  steering  against  the  wind  by  side  courses.  The 
mountains  rise  all  around,  shutting  out  every  view  but 
the  lofty,  lifeless  peaks.  One  blessed  look-out  is  left  to 
the  weary  eye — up  to  the  heavens.  Here  literally  no¬ 
thing  but  heaven  and  hills  can  be  seen.  All  the  time 
we  seem  to  be  wandering  and  winding  along  in  deep, 
dry  river-beds,  with  jagged  mountains  for  their  banks. 
These  banks  resemble  the  tracks  of  water  torrents. 

N 

“He  turneth  rivers  into  a  wilderness, 

And  the  water-springs  into  dry  ground ; 

A  fruitful  land  into  barrenness, 

For  the  wickedness  of  them  that  dwell  therein.^' 

Psalm  107  :  33. 

Here  we  were,  hemmed  in  on  every  side,  deep  down 
between  the  high  granite  mountains,  like  the  men  who 
taunted  Job : 

“  In  the  clefts  of  the  torrents  to  pitch  their  tents, 

In  the  caves  of  the  earth  and  the  rocks.^^ 

Job  30  :  b. 

There  is  no  book  in  the  Bible  whose  imagery  is  so 
much  taken  from  the  stern  scenery  of  this  Arabian  wil¬ 
derness  as  that  of  Job.  As  Bonar  justly  observes : 
‘‘From  the  first  chapter  to  the  last,  the  book  of  Job  is 
the  book  of  the  desert,  as  truly  as  Ecclesiastes  is  the 


106 


A  BEDOUIN  FIGHT. 


book  of  the  palace,  Proverbs  the  book  of  the  city,  Can¬ 
ticles  the  book  of  the  garden,  Romans  the  book  of  the 
forum,  Hebrews  the  book  of  the  altar,  and  the  Apoca¬ 
lypse  the  book  of  the  temple.” 

The  Bible  reader  must  often  wonder  what  weapons 
the  Amalekites  used  when  fighting  with  Joshua  at  Re- 
phidim.  We  know  that  the  Egyptians  had  their  war- 
chariots,  and  their  monuments  clearly  describe  their  arms 
and  armor.  But  down  here  among  these  untrained  no¬ 
madic  hordes  of  Sinai,  we  cannot  expect  to  find  much 
beyond  what  nature  furnishes  —  a  shepherd’s  crook,  and 
the  stone  and  sling.  A  fierce  little  battle  between  two 
Bedouins  gave  me  a  faint  idea  how  they  might  have  man¬ 
aged  their  quarrels  among  themselves.  The  man  to 
superintend  the  caravan  went  by  the  name  of  sheikh. 
In  the  morning,  as  was  his  custom,  he  assigned  a  portion 
of  the  baggage  to  each  camel.  The  owner  of  one,  think¬ 
ing  that  he  piled  on  more  than  his  share,  fiung  it  off 
again.  The  sheikh  put  it  back  again,  which  resulted  in 
his  being  laid  prostrate  on  the  earth.  Having  regained 
his  feet,  they  lustily  set  to  boxing  one  another’s  ears. 
They  thwacked  away  with  fiendish  scowl,  but  only  with 
the  palm  of  the  hand,  on  the  side  of  the  head.  It  seems 
they  have  too  much  respect  for  the  human  face  divine  to 
disfigure  it  with  the  battering  fist ;  in  which  respect,  they 
are  in  advance  of  more  civilized  people.  A  knife  was 
drawn  from  the  belt  of  one  of  them,  but  no  sooner  drawn 
than  dropped.  The  palm  of  the  hand  being  rather  an 
inefficient  weapon,  they  changed  their  tactics  by  collar¬ 
ing  each  other  —  if  such  a  word  can  be  used  where  no 
collars  are  worn.  By  this  time  Ahmed  discovered  the 
affray,  and  commanded  them  to  desist.  Refusing  to  obey, 
he  threw  himself  between  the  combatants,  and  wedged 


BEDOUIN  ARMS.  107 

them  apart ;  meanwhile  showering  a  volley  of  fierce  gut¬ 
turals  upon  them  for  disturbing  the  peace  of  the  camp. 
Once  separated,  they  seemed  to  be  oblivious  of  the  past, 
and  chatted  and  laughed  as  friendly  as  ever.  Among 
the  tormentors  of  our  Saviour,  were  some  who  “  smote 
him  with  the- palms  of  their  hands.''  John  18  :  22.  The 
word  in  the  original  is  sometimes  translated  “rods;”  if 
the  translation  in  our  version  be  correct,  it  shows  that 
then,  as  now,  smiting  with  the  palm  of  the  hand  was  not 
unusual  among  combatants. 

In  hunting,  or  when  fighting  with  their  enemies,  the 
Arabs  or  Bedouins,  who  are  at  least  the  successors,  if 
not  the  descendants,  of  Amalek,  universally  use  the  gun, 
both  in  hunting  and  war ;  in  which  respect  they  are 
greatly  in  advance  of  the  ancient  Amalekites.  This  is 
about  the  only  noticeable  instance  in  which  they  have 
departed  from  their  primitive  simplicity.  In  this  region, 
almost  every  Bedouin  is  armed  with  this  modern  weapon. 
Whether  you  meet  him  alone,  urging  his  camel  over  the 
solitary  waste,  or  in  a  caravan,  the  gun  slung  across  his 
back  seems  as  natural  as  the  turban  on  his  head.  And 
generally  he  is  a  good  shot.  His  keen  eagle  eye,  which 
peers  into  the  distance  with  an  almost  preternatural 
vision,  and  espies  the  smallest  speck  on  the  remote  hori¬ 
zon,  and  his  steady  arm,  unimpaired  by  over-exertion, 
trained  in  the  free,  unhampered  action  of  nature,  are 
calculated  to  make  him  an  adept  in  the  use  of  this 
weapon. 

Occasionally  we  passed  retem-bushes — the  same  as  the 
“juniper”  under  whose  shade  Elijah  slept  in  his  wan¬ 
derings.  We  afterwards  met  with  them  “a  day’s  jour¬ 
ney  ”  south  of  Beersheba,  where  the  prophet  found  them. 
They  are  about  as  large  as  our  elder-bushes,  with  white 


108 


INTENSE  HEAT. 


blossoms  and  narrow  leaves.  In  Psalm  120  :  4,  we  read 
of  “coals  of  juniper.”  The  Bedouins  still  burn  this 
wood  into  charcoal.  Job  (30  :  4)  says  the  famishing 
“  eat  up  juniper  roots  for  their  meat and  many  of  the 
half-starved  Bedouins  still  do  the  same.  How  grateful 
still  their  shade  in  this  sultry,  treeless  region !  Often 
we  crouched  under  their  scanty  branches  at  our  noonday 
respite.  1  Kings  19  :  4. 

Again  we  found  a  few  holes  scooped  out  of  the  sand, 
containing  bitter  water;  and  afterwards  a  few  rills,  in 
a  rough  wady,  which  soon  leaked  under  ground  again ; 
but  all  bitter  —  fit  only  for  camels  and  palm-trees,  of 
which  there  were  several  near  the  water. 

The  day  (11th  of  March)  was  intensely  hot.  Long 
before  noon,  the  ground  under  us,  and  the  bald,  high 
rocks,  fencing  in  the  narrow  valleys  through  which  we 
journeyed,  were  simmering  with  heat.  The  sultry  atmo¬ 
sphere,  warm  water,  and  jogging,  swinging  camels,  pro¬ 
duced  depressing  languor.  In  between  these  deep  moun¬ 
tain  cuts  we  wandered,  through  short  valleys,  ever  chang¬ 
ing,  now  eastward,  now  westward,  the  only  view  beyond  the 
red  rocks  being  up  to  the  blue  sky.  After  turning  nume¬ 
rous  corners  we  finally  emerged  through  a  gorge-like  cut 
from  this  bleak  rock-prison  upon  the  sea-shore.  In  sum¬ 
mer  time  any  sea-breeze  is  refreshing,  but  nothing  so  well 
prepares  one  for  its  enjoyment  as  the  confined  hot  air  of 
the  interminable  Arabian  wadys.  The  rugged  mountain? 
at  some  places  dipped  into  the  sea,  and  the  tide  just 
rising,  here  and  there  ebbed  across  our  path.  Scarcely 
had  we  encamped  before  a  general  rush  was  made  for 
the  sea.  Bedouin,  Theban,  Ethiopian,  and  their  paler 
masters,  plunged  promiscuously  into  the  deep.  A  cool- 


WILDERNESS  OF  SIN. 


109 


ing,  soothing  lave  it  was.  One  almost  felt  as  if  the 
thirst  were  being  quenched  through  the  pores. 

The  sunset  over  the  hills  of  the  opposite  coast  hung 
the  heavens  with  gorgeous  folds.  High  up  the  skj  was 
flooded  with  a  rich  orange  color ;  heavy  folds  of  lumi¬ 
nous  clouds  hung  over  the  horizon,  which  reflected  their 
golden  drapery  athwart  the  sea,  giving  it  the  appearance 
of  a  sea  of  molten  gold,  in  reality  a  “  Red  Sea.” 

We  encamped  on  the  sea-shore  at  the  northern  edge 
of  a  large  promontory,  in  the  wilderness  of  Sin,  which 
the  Bedouins  call  Murka,  about  twenty  miles  from  Elim. 
It  is  a  solitary,  level,  gravelly  neck  of  land,  jutting  out 
from  the  peaky  mountains  into  the  sea,  whose  transverse 
diameters  measure  perhaps  from  three  to  five  miles. 
Hither  Moses  led  the  children  of  Israel,  when  they 
‘^removed  from  Elim,  and  encamped  at  the  Red  Sea.” 
Num.  33  :  10.  Large  as  it  is,  this  plain  must  have  been 
densely  crowded  with  the  Hebrew  encampment,  a  vast 
temporary  tent-city,  containing  as  many  persons  as  thd 
city  of  London.  It  is  perfectly  barren ;  a  few  small 
thorn-trees  are  all  it  contains. 

Here,  in  the  hush  of  the  wilderness,  with  the  sea  on 
one  side  and  frowning  granite  mountains  on  the  other, 
our  Bedouins  entertained  us  with  an  Arabic  drama  in 
moonlight.  It  was  a  love-scene,  fitted  for  the  time  and 
place.  A  little  sprightly  Bedouin,  evidently  susceptible 
of  the  sweet  influence  of  the  tender  passion,  personated 
the  lady.  His  blanket  around  his  head  and  person 
served  as  a  veil.  Half-a-dozen  of  the  others  acted  suit¬ 
ors — sang  and  danced  their  love-ditties  before  him,  with 
a  variety  of  genuflexions.  Their  love-song  consisted  of 
detached  verses,  sung  in  two  parts.  The  stanzas  were 
arranged  in  two  lines,  the  first  sung  by  one  voice,  gene- 
10 


110 


A  BEDOUIN  DKAMA. 


rally  the  lady’s,  the  second  by  the  chorus  of  suitors, 
catching  the  strain  in  the  middle  of  the  first  line.  The 
suitors  all  stood  in  a  line,  accompanying  their  voices 
with  the  swinging  of  their  bodies,  now  back  and  forward, 
then  with  a  long  sweep  from  right  to  left,  clapping  their 
hands  in  concert  at  every  common  bar  or  measure.  If 
the  Bedouin  hath  any  music  in  his  soul,”  he  has  a  poor 
way  of  letting  it  out.  The  variety  of  keys  sung  at  the 
same  time  produced  a  discord  that  mocked  all  harmony, 
and  laboriously  straining  them  through  their  nasal  organs, 
made  it  still  more  unmelodious.  They  kept  pretty  good 
time,  the  clapping  of  hands  and  swinging  of  their  bodies 
being  always  simultaneous.  As  the  play  proceeded  the 
excitement  increased.  When  they  grew  weary  they 
would  sit  down,  swinging  their  love-burdens  silently  on. 
Then  they  would  spring  to  their  feet  and  renew  their 
suit  in  song.  At  last  their  clapping  grew  quicker  and 
shouts  louder ;  heated  with  bodily  exertion,  their  blank¬ 
ets  and  turbans  were  thrown  aside.  Such  unearthly 
heads  on  human  shoulders  !  The  religious  bump  was 
contracted  to  a  narrow*  top,  on  which  a  long,  glossy 
braided  tuft  was  left,  which  seemed  to  stand  on  end 
from  w'ild  emotion.  The  rest  of  the  head  w^as  closely 
shaven.  The  wild  impassionate  style  of  the  performance 
atoned  for  the  discords  of  their  song,  for  tuning-forks 
and  music  lessons  have  not  yet  found  their  way  into  the 
wilderness  of  Sinai,  and  it  is  doubtful  whether  they  ever 
will.  The  kneeling  camels  and  snow-white  tents,  the 
frowning  lofty  mountains  around  us,*  and  the  sea  seen  in 
the  moonlight,  the  watchfire  flickering  its  glare  on  the 
half-naked  Bedouins,  just  enough  to  make  their  hideous 
heads  and  faces  visible  —  all  this  formed  a  scene  not 
easily  forgotten. 


THE  TIMBREL  AND  THE  DANCE  111 

Generally  the  Mohammedans  esteem  dancing  an  un¬ 
dignified  amusement,  and  therefore,  according  to  their 
notions  of  the  female  sex,  it  is  better  suited  for  women. 
Hence  men  seldom  dance.  I  one  day  met  a  marriage 
procession  near  an  Egyptian  village,  preceded  by  a  num¬ 
ber  of  dancing  females,  with  timbrels  or  tamborines. 
Their  dance  simply  consisted  of  a  swinging  walk,  and 
their  music  was  but  a  clattering  noise,  and  their  song  a 
hideous  screeching.  At  a  royal  feast  at  Cairo  I  saw  this 
timbrel  dance  repeated.  The  violent  inflections  and  dis¬ 
tortions  of  the  body  were  indecorous,  and  the  singing 
■was  like  the  filing  of  a  saw.  In  both  these  cases  they 
danced  to  their  own  music,  each  playing  and  dancing  at 
the  same  time.  On  Egyptian  monuments  we  find  the 
timbrel,  sometimes  with  the  cymbal,  used  in  connection 
with  singing  and  dancing,  showing  that  the  present  style 
was  in  vogue  anciently.  But  the  timbrel  was  always  used 
by  the  women,  and  the  flute  by  the  men,  as  it  is  to  this  day. 
All  that  the  Hebrews  knew  about  dancing  they  learned 
from  the  Egyptians.  Thus  when  they  had  crossed  the 
Bed  Sea,  Miriam,  the  sister  of  Aaron,  took  a  timbrel 
in  her  hand,  and  all  the  women  went  out  after  her  with 
timbrels  and  with  dances.”  When  Jephthah  returned  to 
Mizpeh  from  battle,  his  daughter  came  out  to  meet  him, 
“  with  timbrels  and  with  dances.”  Judges  11 :  34.  So,  too, 
when  David  returned  from  the  slaughter  of  the  Philistines, 
women  came  from  all  cities,  with  tabrets,  singing  and 
dancing,  to  celebrate  his  praise  (1  Sam.  18  :  6,  7) ;  and  at 
a  still  later  period  Herodias  danced  before  Herod.  All 
these  cases  show  how  the  Hebrew  dance  continued  to  be 
mainly  confined  to  females,  with  the  use  of  the  tabret 
and  timbrel,  as  among  the  Egyptians  to  this  day.  Mi- 


f 


112  DANCING  AS  A  RELIGIOUS  ACT. 

chal  even  despised  David  for  doing  wliat  only  was  proper 
for  females  and  ‘‘vain  fellows.”  2  Sam.  6  :  20. 

In  nearly  all  the  above  cases  dancing  was  an  expres¬ 
sion  of  religious  joy.  The  raving,  frenzied  dance  of  the 
dervishes  among  the  Mohammedans  is  a  continuation  of 
a  pagan  rite.  The  Hebrews  danced  around  the  golden 
calf  at  Mount  Sinai ;  and  this  golden  calf  was  the  ox 
Apis,  the  most  popular  object  of  worship  among  the 
Egyptians,  with  whom  dancing  around  the  image  formed 
part  of  their  religious  services.  God  allowed  the  He¬ 
brews  to  continue  the  dance  in  their  later  history,  but 
only  as  a  religious  act.  In  Psalms  149  and  150  God’? 
praise  is  spoken  of  in  connection  with  the  timbrel,  the 
harp,  and  the  dance'.  Its  exercise  indicated  the  opposite 
from  sadness  and  mourning.  In  this  sense  there  is  “  a 
time  to  mourn  and  a  time  to  dance.”  “Our  dance  is 
turned  into  mourning.”  Lam.  5  :  15. 

The  Bible  argument  for  modern  dancing  can,  there¬ 
fore,  only  apply  to  this  exercise  as  a  religious  act.  Those 
Christians  whose  religious  joy  and  gratitude  may  seek 
expression  in  this  form,  have  a  scriptural  precedent,  if 
they  choose  to  make  merry  in  this  way.  I  need  not 
remark,  however,  that  pious  religious  emotions  have  little 
to  do  with  fashionable  promiscuous  dancing.  As  for  the 
style  of  the  Hebrew  dance,  it  was  very  different  from 
that  of  the  modern.  Doubtless  it  was  such  as  is  still 
found  in  the  East,  a  clumsy,  half-walking  motion,  wrig¬ 
gling  the  body  into  various  attitudes.  I  noticed  a  small 
procession  of  Oriental  Christians  approaching  Jerusalem, 
the  foremost  of  whom  danced  for  joy  in  this  way.  The 
friends  of  the  dance  may  consider  it  a  good  fortune  for 
their  favorite  amusement,  that  few  attempt  to  justify  it 
on  scriptural  grounds.  Both  the  motive  for  and  the 


“the  valley  of  inscriptions.”  113 

manner  of  dancing  were  different  from  those  of  more 
modern  times ;  and  while  we  must  admit  that  the  art  has 
gained  much  in  point  of  gracefulness  and  ease,  it  has 
been  shifted  on  to  heathen  ground.  Who  would  expect 
praise  and  religious  joy  on  a  dancing  floor !  In  most 
cases  the  practice  bears  no  slight  resemblance  to  Baccha¬ 
nalian  orgies.  If  we  are  to  have  anything  in  the  Chris¬ 
tian  Church  to  correspond  to  the  Hebrew  dance,  it  must 
he  Church  song,  the  music  of  the  sanctuary,  which  far 
excels  in  sweetness  the  timbrel,  tabret,  and  the  dance. 

March  12th. — Early  this  morning  we  crossed  the  plain 
southward,  and  entered  the  mountain  defiles  again.  The 
first,  Wady  Shelal,  spread  into  a  large  basin,  with  a  few 
trees.  Then  we  wandered  through  a  series  of  wadys, 
whose  names  I  will  not  inflict  upon  the  reader.  Towards 
noon  our  path  was  suddenly  blocked  up.  We  climbed 
along  a  rugged  footpath,  around  deep  gorges  and  among 
loose  rocks,  where  a  single  slip  would  have  precipitated  one 
into  a  fearful  abyss.  The  narrow  pass  allowed  only  one 
camel  to  pass  at  a  time,  while  the  frowning  cliffs  hanging 
above  seemed  ready  every  moment  to  roll  over  them. 
Again  we  lunched  in  “the  shadow  of  a  great  rock.” 
The  heat  was  intense,  and  our  Nile  water  growing  warmer 
every  day ;  and  many  a  granite  peak  rose  between  us 
and  fresh  water.  We  encamped  here,  in  a  little  crooked 
valley,  lying  deep  down  between  rough  red  masses  of 
rocks,  called  by  the  Bedouins  Wady  Mokatteb,  and  by 
travellers  “the  Valley  of  Inscriptions.”  It  is  nowhere 
more  than  half  a  mile  wide,  and  in  most  places  less.  On 
the  soft  reddish  sandstone,  and  the  harder  granite  which 
hound  both  sides  of  this  vale,  are  numerous  inscriptions. 
They  are  such  as  Job  speaks  of,  engraven  with  a  pen  of 
iron,  and  carved  “in  the  rock.”  Job  19  :  24.  Some  con- 
10  *  II 


114 


MONUMENTAL  ROCKS. 


sist  of  names  written  in  an  ancient  tongue,  which  has 
hitherto  baffled  the  skill  of  our  greatest  antiquarians  to 
interpret.  Then  there  are  hieroglyphics — camels,  horses, 
asses,  and  gazelles  (the  hart  of  the  Bible).  At  one  place 
is  a  man,  attacked  by  a  tiger  and  an  elephant ;  at  another 
are  two  men  engaged  in  mortal  combat  with  sword  and 
shield.  The  carving  is  rude  and  the  figures  are  poorly 
drawn,  such  as  almost  any  one  unskilled  in  the  art  might 
draw  with  the  loose  stones  that  are  lying  about. 

Cosmas  saw  these  stone  inscriptions  here  1200  years 
ago.  Some  are,  no  doubt,  much  older.  Among  the 
figures  are  numerous  Greek  and  Roman  crosses.  The 
prettiest  symbol  I  have  ever  met  with  anywhere,  was  a 
cross  with  an  anchor  hung  to  the  cross-beam.  Whoever 
the  unknown  pilgrim  may  have  been,  he  knew  where 
hangs  our  hope,  “the  anchor  of  the  soul.”  The  inscrip 
tions  which  have  been  deciphered  are  simple  and  short 
The  few  that  are  written  in  Greek  do  not  even  contain 
the  name  of  the  writer.  Only  the  wish  :  ^‘’Pious  pilgrim^ 
remember  meP  In  many  cases  they  scratched  but  a 
simple  cross  on  the  rude  rock,  as  a  memorial  of  their 
faith  in  their  crucified  and  exalted  Redeemer. 

These  inscriptions  are  found  from  the  ground  upward 
to  the  height  of  fifty  and  a  hundred  feet.  Who  put 
them  there  ?  Most  probably  pilgrims  to  Mount  Sinai, 
some  before  the  coming  of  Christ  and  some  since.  Long 
before  the  Christian  era,  “  the  Mount  of  God  ”  was  a 
shrine  frequented  by  devout  pilgrims.  Amid  the  dis¬ 
heartening  vicissitudes  of  the  Hebrew  people,  with  their 
idolatries  and  God-deserted  altars,  pious  devotion  sought 
communion  with  the  Divine  Being  in  the  still  solitude  of 
Sinai,  where  the  Almighty,  in  a  previous  age,  deigned  to 
speak  with  Moses.  Just  as  Elijah  fled  from  wickedness 


ANCIENT  WAYMARKS. 


115 


and  persecution  to  Horeb,  so  hosts  of  other  Jews,  from 
Egypt  and  elsewhere,  sought  comfort  here.  After  the 
Messiah  had  come  and  finished  his  work,  Christian  pil¬ 
grims  continued  to  resort  to  tho  Mount  of  God.  Mo~ 
katteh  must  have  been  a  rendezvous  for  them,  where  they 
carved  their  hopes  and  yearnings  on  these  undecaying 
monuments  of  nature. 

It  was  near  midnight  as  my  companion  and  I  were 
seated  on  one  of  these  monumental  rocks  in  Mokatteb. 
Our  picturesque  group  of  tents,  camels,  and  Arabs,  lay 
there  in  the  soft  light  of  the  half-full  moon,  which  clearly 
disclosed  the  rough  outlines  of  the  valley.  Some  one 
has  said  that  he  never  felt  more  lonely  than  in  the 
crowded  streets  of  large  cities.  And  the  converse  is 
true,  that  we  often  feel  least  alone  in  solitude.  It  was 
so  here.  Thousands  of  a  kindred  faith  had  come  to  and 
left  this  bleak  vale,  without  tree  or  shrub  to  cheer  its 
solitude.  Like  epitaphs  on  grave  stones,  their  names 
and  faith  were  deeply  graven  on  these  large  tablets. 
Save  by  an  occasional  traveller,  they  remain  unread  and 
unknown,  and  their  pious  v/ish  to  be  remembered  is  but 
rarely  realized.  Their  homes  and  their  tombs  are  un¬ 
known  to  mortals,  but  for  thousands  of  years  to  come, 
as  in  thousands  of  years  past,  their  marks  may  be  read 
on  the  rocks,  which  they  have  graven  with  their  own 
hands.  Whatever  their  occupation  or  lot  in  life,  they 
thus 

“  Departing,  left  behind  them 
Footprints  in  the  sand  of  time. 

Footprints  that  perhaps  another 
Travelling  o'er  life's  solemn  main, 

Some  forlorn  or  shipwrecked  brother, 

Seeing  may  take  heart  again." 


116 


MIRACLE  OF  THE  QUAILS. 


There,  in  the  depth  and  silence  of  the  wilderness,  with 
its  dearth  of  bread  and  water,  we  sat  on  a  lofty  rock, 
longing  for  Canaan,  far  from  the  endearments  and  com¬ 
forts  of  home,  and  sang  with  hearts  almost  too  full  for 
song : 

“Guide  me,  0  Thou  great  Jehovah! 

Pilgrim  through  this  barren  land, 

I  am  -weak  but  Thou  art  mighty, 

Hold  me  with  Thy  powerful  hand; 

Bread  of  heaven 
Feed  me,  till  I  want  no  more. 

“Open  now  the  crystal  fountain 

Whence  the  healing  streams  do  flow; 

Let  the  fiery,  cloudy  pillar 

Lead  me  all  my  journey  through ; 

Strong  Deliverer 

Be  Thou  still  my  strength  and  shield. 

“When  I  tread  the  verge  of  Jordan 
Bid  my  anxious  fears  subside. 

Death  of  death  1  and  helFs  Destruction  I 
Land  me  safe  on  Canaan's  side ; 

Songs  of  praises 
I  will  ever  give  to  Thee." 

We  have  now  reached  the  region  where  the  Manna 
commenced  to  fall.  Pairs  of  gray  quails,  about  the  size 
of  our  partridges,  ran  over  the  steep  rocks  of  Mokatteb, 
as  we  clambered  over  them  in  search  of  inscriptions. 
Not  a  grain  of  wheat  grows  in  all  this  region  to  this 
day.  A  few  quails  remain,  monuments  of  the  great 
quail-miracle,  which  brought  clouds  of  them  hither  from 
other  regions.  ^‘And  it  came  to  pass,  that  at  even  the 
quails  came  up,  and  covered  the  camp ;  and  in  the  morn¬ 
ing,  the  dew  lay  round  about  the  host.”  Ex.  16  :  13. 

The  following  day,  we  wandered  on  through  these  in- 


BEDOUIN  SALUTATIONS. 


IIT 


terminable  wadys.  Hot  and  sultry,  we  again  sought  the 
shadow  of  a  great  rock  to  rest  at  noon.  A  few  thorny 
shrubs  and  stunted  palm  trees,  proclaimed  our  approach 
to  Wady  Feiran,  the  oasis  of  the  peninsula  of  Sinai. 
Its  narrow  bed  winds  up  ten  or  twelve  miles  from  the 
Red  Sea,  through  which,  most  probably,  the  Hebrews 
came  hither  from  the  Wilderness  of  Sin.  For  the  first 
time  since  we  had  left  Cairo,  we  found  full-grown  palms, 
waving  their  lofty  plume-like  tops  most  gracefully.  Cross¬ 
ing  a  small  hill,  crowned  with  the  ruins  of  a  convent,  we 
encamped  amid  a  clump  of  palm  trees.  Our  Bedouins 
were  here  welcomed  home  by  a  number  of  friends. 
Shaking  hands,  by  simply  touching  the  open  palm,  they 
embraced  and  kissed,  some  of  them  five  times  on  either 
cheek,  meanwhile  muttering  their  Salaam  Aleikum” 
(peace  be  with  thee).  A  few  saluted  by  slightly  and 
solemnly  bumping  foreheads.  Some,  at  first  sight,  ran 
to  embrace  -each  other,  just  like  the  sons  of  Isaac. 
‘‘  Esau  ran  to  meet  him,  and  embraced  him,  and  fell  on 
his  neck  and  kissed  him.”  Gen.  33  :  4.  So  too  Laban 
and  Jacob  met.  Gen.  29  ;  13.  These  salutations  of  friends 
who  meet  on  a  journey,  require  considerable  time.  When 
our  Saviour  sent  forth  his  seventy  disciples,  he  wished 
them  to  lose  no  time  in  their  urgent  and  pressing  work, 
and  hence  he  told  them :  “  Salute  no  man  by  the  way.” 
Luke  10  :  4.  Our  men  had  been  from  home  for  weeks, 
and  made  a  long  and  wearisome  journey,  yet  their  faces 
looked  sullen  and  solemn  as  the  grave.  Not  a  smile 
could  be  seen  as  “they  asked  each  other  of  their  peace.” 
A  few  rough,  black  tents  were  scattered  about ;  while 
some  had  piled  up  stones  roofed  with  dry  palm  branches, 
for  their  dwelling.  This  greeting  ceremony  came  right 
in  place;  for,  somewhere  in  this  region,  Jethro,  the  father- 


118 


REPHIDIM. 


in-law  of  Moses,  came  with  his  sons  and  his  wife  unto 
Moses  in  the  wilderness.”  ‘‘And  Moses  went  out  to 
meet  him  (out  of  his  tent),  and  did  obeisance,  and  kissed 
him;  and  they  asked  each  other  of  their  welfare  (or 
peace),  and  they  came  into  the  tent.”  Ex.  18  :  7.  In 
this  dreary  country,  too,  Aaron  met  Moses  “  in  the 
mount  of  God,  and  hissed  Mm.''  Ex.  4  :  27. 

The  Bedouins  again  scooped  wells  out  of  the  sand,  to 
water  the  camels.  Both  the  beast  and  its  driver  drank 
sparingly,  but  its  bitterness  was  too  much  for  my  thirsty 
palate.  This  is  Bephidim,  where  the  Hebrews  murmured 
the  second  time  for  water.  Ex.  17.  A  word  about  this 
murmuring  just  here  and  now.  When  a  benignant  Father 
gives  us  running  brooks  and  daily  bread  in  abundance, 
we  are  often  disposed  to  judge  the  famishing  host  of 
Moses  very  harshly  for  their  turbulent  complaints.  To 
this  day  the  wanderer  travelling  through  here  must  bring 
his  food  with  him.  Even  the  Bedouin  must  bring  his 
barley  and  rice  from  Cairo  or  Akaba.  Our  table,  here 
at  Bephidim,  is  almost  sumptuously  spread,  but  has 
nothing  on  it  from  the  country  through  which  we  are 
travelling,  except  mutton,  and  now  perhaps  a  few  dates 
from  the  palm-trees  around  our  tents.  Occasionally  we 
buy  a  sheep,  then  Mohammed  soon  extracts  a  quarter 
from  the  skin,  and  fits  it  for  the  table.  Yesterday  we 
had  a  fine  turkey,  but  it  was  brought  from  Egypt.  We 
eat  rice  from  India,  oranges  and  figs  from  Smyrna,  hams 
and  potatoes  and  pickles  from  England,  macaroni  from 
Naples,  dozens  of  puny  oven-hatched  chickens  brought  in 
a  portable  coop  on  a  camel’s  back  from  Egypt,  and  bread 
which  no  one  can  eat,  from  Cairo.  God  be  thanked,  we 
could  bring  our  manna  with  us,  enough,  and  to  spare. 
We  brought  water  along  too, — two  large  casks  of  filtered 


WANT  OF  WATER. 


119 


Nile  water,  when  we  started,  good  and  fresh  as  any 
thirsty  lips  could  desire.  But  we  have  now  tried  to  use 
it  for  ten  days,  carried  and  shaken  it  over  at  least  150 
miles,  under  a  sun  almost  hot  enough  to  boil  it.  Daily 
it  has  grown  worse.  The  mountain-sides  everywhere 
show  traces  of  water-torrents,  and  our  path  lies  over 
river-beds.  Dry  water-courses  mock  our  thirst  every¬ 
where  ;  water  in  wells,  water  oozing  through  the  sand, 
water  in  the  large  sea, 

“  Water,  water  everywhere,  and  not  a  drop  to  drink.^^ 

One  is  reminded  of  Tantalus,  set  up  to  the  chin  in 
water,  which  fled  from  his  lips  whenever  he  attempted  to 
drink  it.  I  almost  envy  the  camels  their  palate,  which 
can  feast  on  such  stuff*.  The  crooked  wadys  shut  out  the 
air ;  the  bold  rocks  reflect  and  intensify  the  hot  sun- 
rays  ;  the  earth  teems  with  heat;  still  we  jog  on  through 
this  oven-like  atmosphere.  Again  and  again  I  reach  for 
the  leathern  bottle  hung  to  my  saddle,  and  as  often  put 
it  back  with  half-impatient  disappointment,  for  its  water 
is  impure.  God  forgive  my  ill-suppressed  murmuring. 
Sometimes  a  faintish,  dizzy  feeling  flits  through  my  brain, 
the  ground  and  the  mountains  begin  to  quiver.  The 
shout  of  a  Bedouin  rouses  me  from  a  dreamish  stupor,  to 
a  keener  desire  for  water.  0  for  a  cup  of  the  cold  water 
at  my  father’s  door !  Barrels  daily  run  through  his 
meadow,  with  no  one  to  taste  or  enjoy  it.  Here  one  can 
appreciate  David’s  description  of  the  good  Shepherd. 
“  He  maketh  me  to  lie  down  in  green  pastures.  He  lead- 
eth  me  beside  the  still  water.''  Ps.  23  :  2. 

So  longed  the  poor  Hebrews  for  water,  shut  up  among 
these  burning  wadys,  still  more  intolerably  hot  later  in 
the  season.  Coming  out  of  the  Red  Sea,  they  sought 


120  SUFFERINGS  OF  THE  HEBREWS. 

water  at  the  wells  of  Moses,  but  it  was  bitter.  They 
plod  on  for  three  long  and  weary  days,  and  came  to 
Marah,  drooping  and  fainting  with  thirst.  Again  it  is 
hitter.  When  one  takes  into  the  account  the  number  of 
old  and  infirm  persons  there  must  have  been  among 
those  two  millions  of  Hebrews  poorly  fitted  to  endure  the 
want  of  water  ;  the  large  number  of  children  who  would 
give  free  vent  to  their  sufferings  in  cries,  while  their 
mothers,  ready  to  sink,  strove  to  keep  up  with  the  wan¬ 
dering  host,  and  vainly  tried  to  quiet  their  pitiful  screams 
for  water,  is  it  surprising  that  among  such  a  tumult  of 
misery,  their  sorrow  should  murmur  ?  How  joyful  the 
rumored  approach  of  water  at  Marah !  They  rush  for  a 
taste,  but  ready  to  die  for  thirst,  they  yet  cannot  drink. 
Then  coming  to  this  place,  the  disappointment  must  have 
been  equally  painful.  Afterwards  they  murmured  again 
at  Zion,  which  was  no  place  of  seed,  or  of  figs,  or  of 
vines,  or  of  pomegranates  ;  ‘'neither  is  there  any  water  to 
drink.”  Num.  21  :  5.  When  we  think  of  this  vast  multi¬ 
tude,  shut  up  inextricably  between  mountain-barriers,  cut 
off  from  all  human  means  of  subsistence,  in  this  arid  wil¬ 
derness,  the  ground  radiant  with  parchmg  heat,  without 
water  where  they  most  need  it,  scattered  for  many  miles 
over  narrow,  short  valleys,  some  of  them  far  from  their 
leader,  we  can  at  least  partly  account  for  their  murmuring 
remembrance  of  the  Nile.  It  was  cruel,  and  yet  under 
the  circumstances  natural,  to  cry  out  to  Moses  :  “  Give 
us  water  that  we  may  drink.  Wherefore  is  this  that 
thou  hast  brought  us  up  out  of  Egypt,  to  kill  us  and  our 
children  and  our  cattle  with  thirst.”  Ex.  17  :  2,  3.  Like 
this  fountainless,  pathless  desert  is  the  world  without 
Christ.  In  the  noon-tide  of  his  glory  “  the  desert  shall 
rejoice  and  blossom  as  the  rose.” 


A  PLEASANT  VALLEY. 


121 


“For  in  the  wilderness  shall  waters  break  out, 
And  streams  in  the  desert. 

And  the  parched  ground  shall  become  a  pool, 
And  the  thirsty  land  springs  of  water. 


And  a  highway  shall  be  there  and  a  way. 

And  it  shall  be  called  the  way  of  holiness.'^ 

Is.  35  :  6-7. 

“T  will  open  rivers  in  high  places 

And  fountains  in  the  midst  of  the  valleys: 

I  will  make  the  wilderness  a  pool  of  water. 

And  the  dry  land  springs  of  water.’^ 

Is.  41  :  18. 

In  all  tkis  wilderness,  wherever  the  water  percolates 
through  the  saline  sand  and  gravel,  it  is  hitter,  from 
which  you  turn  away  thirsty ;  it  is  only  fit  to  drink 
where  it  comes  from  the  solid  rock.  Just  as  all  virtue, 
goodness,  and  truth  coming  to  us  from  fallible  man  are 
flavored  with  imperfection,  but  that  which  we  derive 
from  the  Rock  of  Ages  ”  is  sweet  and  refreshing  unto 
eternal  life.  “  Whosoever  drinketh  of  this  water  shall 
thirst  again :  Rut  whosoever  drinketh  of  the  water  that 
I  shall  give  him  shall  never  thirst”  John  4  :  13-14. 

The  grove  of  palm  and  tamarisk  gives  Wady  Feiran 
almost  the  appearance  of  a  cultivated  valley.  Our  Lon¬ 
don  friends  encamped  near  us.  The  peaceful,  shady  val¬ 
ley  soon  was  all  astir  with  camels,  poultry,  and  Bedouins. 
The  chicken-coop  discharged  a  stream  of  cackling  anima¬ 
tion,  and  spread  it  around  the  tents,  Now  and  then  a 
new  Bedouin  came,  solemnly  embraced  his  friends,  then  ** 
gazed  at  the  white-skinned  strangers.  Mr.  S.  brought  a 
donkey  from  Cairo,  which  made  the  mountains  ring  with 
his  screeching  braying.  At  night  the  grove  was  lit  up 
with  three  difierent  watch-fires.  Our  Bedouins  enter- 
11 


122 


ASCENT  OF  MOUNT  SERBAL. 


tained  their  friends  with  coifee.  Seated  in  a  circle  around 
the  fire,  one  would  make  coffee,  while  the  other  handed 
it  round  in  tiny  cups.  Of  course  it  was  innocent  of 
sugar  and  cream.  While  they  were  sipping  others  came, 
and  muttering  a  sullen  Salaam,  took  their  seats  in  the 
circle.  Their  coffee  aone,  they  smoked  their  pipes, 
speaking  but  little.  The  luminous  smoke  curled  up 
among  the  trees,  while  their  blazing  fire  revealed  their 
graceful  tops,  and  cast  a  red  glare  on  the  dark  frown¬ 
ing  mountaimsides.  A  gentle  wind  kept  up  a  rustling 
among  the  tree-tops.  The  night  was  very  dark  but  clear, 
giving  lustre  to  the  millions  of  eyes  that  twinkled  down 
from  the  star-spangled  heavens.  Some  of  the  Bedouins 
disperse,  others  quietly  cover  their  feet  with  a  coarse 
blanket,  and  all  that  is  left  at  midnight  are  a  few  rolled 
up,  fast  asleep. 

Early  the  first  morning  after  reaching  Feiran,  we 
started  to  ascend  Serbdl,  the  highest  mountain  in  this 
part  of  the  wilderness  (6759  feet).  As  we  rode  up  a 
rough  valley,  full  of  loose  blocks  of  stone,  a  solitary  bird 
carolled  its  early  lays,  while  the  first  rays  of  the  rising 
sun  gilded  the  lofty  peaks.  We  rode  about  half  an  hour, 
and  then  continued  our  ascent  afoot.  At  the  base  of  a 
steep,  rugged  defile,  called  ‘‘the  father  of  wild  figs,” 
from  a  wild  fig-tree  found  here,  we  reached  a  small  spring 
of  water.  Wild  thyme,  with  pleasant  aroma,  grew  around 
the  stones;  but  ere  long,  all  signs  of  life  ceased.  We 
ascended  through  this  rough  torrent-bed,  gorged  with 
huge  granite  boulders.  I  had  wandered  over  the  Swiss 
mountains,  not  excepting  the  Bhigi  and  St.  Bernard,  and 
done  many  other  wonderful  things  in  such  climbing  ad¬ 
ventures  ;  but  all  was  mere  child’s  play,  compared  with 
this  neck-breaking  Serbal :  now  standing  before  a  large 


MOUNTAIN  BASINS. 


123 


rock,  panting  for  breath,  and  wondering  how  to  get  on 
it,  then  clambering  up  its  sides  on  all-fours ;  over  and 
around  rocks,  across  deep  gorges,  and  lengthwise  along 
their  steep  sides  ;  toiling  over  loose,  rolling  stones,  where 
one  step  gained  was  two  lost ;  creeping  through  clefts, 
up  we  toiled,  as  best  we  could,  with  short  intervals  of 
rest,  for  five  consecutive  hours.  At  one  place  we  found 
a  small  quantity  of  snow  beneath  a  rock,  and  a  small 
piece  of  ice,  two  feet  square.  At  another,  toward  the 
summit,  was  a  basin  or  bowl  in  a  rock,  containing  rain¬ 
water,  most  delicious.  We  poured  away  our  tepid  Nile 
water,  and  with  devout  gratitude  refilled  our  bottles  for 
the  first  time  this  side  of  Egypt. 

The  mountain  terminates  in  five  peaks  towards  the 
summit.  The  largest  one  rose  before  us,  a  mountain  in 
itself.  Arrived  at  the  top,  we  reclined  on  its  broad  back, 
which  has  been  fitly  likened  to  the  back  of  a  petrified  tor¬ 
toise.  Around  us  rose  the  peaks  of  Serbal,  like  prodigious 
stalagmites,  covered  mih  a  variety  of  fantastic  figures. 
Immense  sphinxes  and  urichiselled  statues  of  men  stand 
along  these  fearful  heights ;  large  basins,  scooped  out  of 
solid  masses,  and  others,  perforated  with  holes  by  some 
unknown  agency.  Large  rock-drops  linger  on  the  sur¬ 
face,  as  if  melted  lava  had  been  suddenly  cooled  in  the 
act  of  trickling  down  over  the  hissing  masses.  I  had  to 
think  of  a  huge  cauldron  of  granite,  boiling  with  intense 
tumult,  when  the  large  bubbles  are  suddenly  cooled, 
forming  rounded  heads,  eyes,  and  holes  of  almost  every 
imaginable  shape. 

Eew  travellers  ascend  Serbal.  On  the  top,  several 
stones  were  laid  around  a  small  phial,  containing  the 
names  of  a  few  persons  who  have  visited  the  top  during 
late  years,  to  which  we  added  our  own.  A  cool  breeze 


124  VIEWS  FROM  MOUNT  SERB^L. 


soon  checked  the  perspiration  produced  by  the  ascent, 
and  enabled  us  to  enjoy  the  marvellous  view  that  em¬ 
braced  nearly  the  whole  peninsula.  Far  below  us  the 
cliffy  mountains  rose  out  of  their  rock  and  sand  beds, 
cutting  and  crossing  each  other  at  all  angles  and  wind¬ 
ings.  And  the  vast  web  of  little  valleys  for  once  were 
disentangled,  coursing  and  winding  in  every  direction, 
presenting  a  mould  like  a  raised  map,  revealing  all  the 
outlines  and  rude  features  of  this  extraordinary  con¬ 
formation.  Some  one  has  called  the  Sinaitic  mountains 
‘‘the  Alps  unclothed and  very  justly.  From  the  Fhigi, 
you  see  a  dozen  silvery  lakes  in  one  direction,  sleeping 
in  the  lap  of  a  green  paradise  of  villages  and  fields ; 
in  another,  a  vast  panorama  of  snow-clad  mountains 
spreads  out  to  view,  embracing  and  sheltering  green  val¬ 
leys  and  smiling  villages.  But  here  no  tree  nor  village 
greets  the  scene.  Bald  mountains,  white,  gray,  green, 
brown,  and  streaked ;  gray  wadys,  but  no  life  in  sight, 
save  a  small  part  of  the  one  solitary  palm-grove,  down 
in  Feiran ;  the  most  perfect  famine-inspiring  scene  of 
sterility  that  the  mind  of  man  can  conceive.  We  saw 
the  Bed  Sea,  with  the  Egyptian  hills  beyond,  and  Mount 
Tor,  on  this  side ;  the  wilderness  of  Sin,  Mount  Sinai, 
and  the  wilderness  of  Tih  (Zin).  Our  eyes  rested  on 
the  whole  scope  of  country  in  which  the  Hebrews  wan¬ 
dered,  murmured,  and  fell. 

We  found  Zeddan,  the  Sheikh  of  Serbal,  a  reliable  and 
pleasant  guide,  ready  to  impart  what  little  information 
he  possessed.  Here,  as  elsewhere,  were  rock  inscriptions 
again.  Our  descent  required  three  hours,  and  was  likewise 
very  fatiguing.  There  was  scarcely  a  rod  of  clear  path 
to  the  base ;  now  sliding  down  over  blocks,  then  walking 
over  loose  stones,  rolling  from  beneath  our  feet,  we 


REPHIDIM  AXD  MERIBAH. 


125 


wished  for  our  camels  long  before  we  reached  them. 
With  sore  feet,  sore  limbs,  but  cheerful  hearts,  we 
mounted  where  we  had  left  them  in  the  morning,  and 
reached  Feiran  ready  for  a  sound  dinner. 

A  month  later,  we  met  a  lady  on  the  steamer  Samois, 
bound  for  Europe,  whose  husband,  an  English  clergyman, 
ascended  Serbal  two  weeks  after  we  did.  He  took  a 
blanket  with  him,  and  in  spite  of  the  remonstrances  of 
'Others,  remained  all  night  on  the  summit,  to  get  a  sun¬ 
rise  \dew.  The  physical  exertion  and  night  air  brought 
on  the  Eastern  fever.  Their  efforts  to  brino;  him  to  Jeru- 

O 

Salem,  in  the  absence  of  medical  attendance,  only  a2:2:ra- 

J  7  OO 

vated  his  disease.  Away  down  in  Beersheba,  nine  hours’ 
journey  from  Hebron,  he  died ;  leaying  his  sorrowing 
widow  alone  with  her  caravan  in  the  wilderness.  With 
difficulty  she  had  him  brousht  to  Jerusalem,  and  buried 
in  the  Protestant  burial-ground. 

Sunday,  March  \bth. — A  Sabbath-day  at  Rephidiin 
and  Meribah  !  Near  where  it  was  first  said,  Remem¬ 
ber  the  Sabbath-day,  to  keep  it  holy”!  Quietly  and 
peacefully  our  snow-white  tents  reposed  in  the  shady  palra- 
srove,  with  the  cra^^y  mountains  towerincr  hiorh  above  us 
in  awful  majesty.  Near  us  is  Convent  Hill,  on  which 
Moses  sat,  and  where  xkaron  and  Hur  held  up  his  hands 
while  Joshua  slew  Amalek.  No  matter  :  any  other  of  the 
many  mountains  around  will  answer,  if  this  will  not. 
Door-holes  in  the  mountain-side  lead  to  hermit-cells, 
whither,  in  past  ages,  many  fled  from  the  world,  to  live 
alone  in  penance  and  self-mortification.  It  was  a  day 
and  place  to  enjoy  the  ITth  chapter  of  Exodus.  In  this 
unique  enclosure,  deep  between  towering  mountains,  wo 
worshipped  and  meditated,  with  Amalekites  for  our  pro¬ 
tectors,  where  the  Lord  said  he  “  will  have  war  with 
11* 


126  MOSES  AND  THE  AMALEKITE3. 


Amalek,  from  generation  to  generation.”  I  could  scarcely 
look  at  the  mountains  without  thinking  of  the  three  per¬ 
sons  who  decided  the  fate  of  the  battle.  The  story  is  so 
childlike  and  simple :  —  ‘^And  it  came  to  pass,  when 
Moses  held  up  his  hand,  that  Israel  prevailed ;  and  when 
he  let  down  his  hand,  Amalek  prevailed.  But  Moses’ 
hands  were  heavy ;  and  they  took  a  stone,  and  put  it 
under  him,  and  he  sat  thereon.  And  Aaron  and  Hur 
stayed  up  his  hands,  the  one  on  the  one  side,  and  the 
other  on  the  other  side ;  and  his  hands  were  steady  until 
the  going  down  of  the  sun.  And  Joshua  discomfited 
Amalek  and  his  people  with  the  edge  of  the  sword.”  Ex. 
17  :  11-16. 

Some  would  have  Serbal  be  Mount  Sinai.  We  asked 
Sheikh  Zeddan,  who  says  the  Bedouins  know  nothing 
about  Moses  having  been  here.  Several  years  before, 
Stanley  asked  him  whether  the  Arabs  worshipped  on 
Serbal.  He  said  :  “Arabs  never  pray  nor  kill  sheep  on 
the  top  of  SerbM ;  sometimes,  however,  travellers  eat 
chickens  there ;”  which  he  perhaps  regarded  as  a  kind 
of  sacrificial  ofiering. 

The  rock  formations  in  this  region  are  various.  Their 
colors  readily  reveal  their  quality  —  chalk,  limestone, 
sandstone,  and  granite.  Sometimes  the  transition  from 
one  to  the  other  is  very  sudden  —  naught  but  a  streak 
between  two  perfect  formations.  Within  two  days  from 
Serbal,  we  passed  hills  like  vast  heaps  of  black  cinders, 
and  ruins  of  mountains  calcined  to  ashes,  not  unlike 
the  refuse  of  a  foundry.  Around  SerbM  the  rocks  are 
full  of  red  and  gray  streaks,  as  if  the  igneous  fluid  had 
squirted  upwards  as  they  were  heaved  from  the  ground. 

The  next  day  we  struck  our  tents,  and  emerged  from 
the  palm-grove  of  Feiran.  I  will  not  take  the  reader 


THE  MOUNT  OF  THE  LAW. 


127 


over  the  whole  list  of  unpronounceable  wadys  through 
which  we  had  to  wander.  We  took  the  nearest  but  most 
difficult  road.  In  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  we  dis¬ 
mounted  at  the  foot  of  a  dark  mountain-pass,  fearfully 
rugged.  The  tortuous,  narrow  footpath,  at  some  places 
crept  along  between  rocks  where  there  was  barely  room 
for  the  camels  to  pull  their  burdens  through.  Large, 
blackish  granite  blocks  hung  frowningly  over  us,  and 
beneath  was  a  deep  gorge,  through  which  a  wild  moun¬ 
tain  stream  tumbled  foamingly  down  its  obstructed  course. 
We  threaded  our  way  up  this  stone  stairway,  over  a  dis¬ 
tance  of  about  three  miles ;  the  poor  camels  literally 
climbing  up  the  high  steps,  pressing  their  spongy  feet  on 
the  rough  surface,  and  straining  under  their  loads,  until 
their  joints  creaked  and  cracked.  To  make  it  still  more 
dreary,  a  storm  of  rain  and  sleet  overtook  us  just  as  we 
approached  the  end  of  the  pass.  The  air  had  become 
keen  and  chilly.  I  shivered,  rolled  up  in  two  coats,  a 
cloak,  and  a  burnouse.  Over  such  a  rugged,  cold,  as¬ 
cending  path,  the  spirit  reaches  the  Mount  of  the  Law, 
without  a  ray  of  cheering  warmth  and  sunlight. 

Out  of  the  pass  we  entered  Wady  Er-Rahah,  where  a 
number  of  black  goat-hair,  tents  were  scattered  along  a 
hill-side.  A  few  of  their  tenants  ran  out  and  hallooed 
after  us,  mingling  their  Salaam  Aleikum  ”  with  a  re¬ 
quest  to  buy  their  mutton  or  give  a  bucksheesh. 

From  the  time  we  had  reached  the  top  of  the  pass, 
the  cliffy,  awful  features  of  Sinai  commenced  to  unfold 
to  view.  Without  knowing  what  it  was,  both  of  us  in¬ 
voluntarily  exclaimed,  ‘‘What  an  awful  mountain  that  is  !” 
We  approached  its  bold  breast  through  the  broad  valley, 
Er-Kahah,  facing  it ;  its  front  but  half  visible  at  first, 
but  unfolding  out  of  the  mountain  as  we  neared.  A 


128 


CONVENT  OF  MCUNT  SINAI. 


dense  black  cloud  hung  around  tlie  top,  TTbile  the  rugged, 
deeply-shaded  base,  with  its  furrows  and  fissures,  stood 
out  to  view  in  all  its  rough  -  featured  outlines,  at  once 
calling  to  mind  the  thunders  and  lightnings,  the  black 
cloud  and  the  voice  of  a  trumpet,  and  the  smoke  ascend¬ 
ing  from  the  top,  at  the  giving  of  the  law.  Ex.  19  :  16. 
With  Stanley,  I  cannot  imagine  that  any  human  being 
could  pass  up  that  plain,  and  not  feel  that  he  was  enter¬ 
ing  a  place,  above  all  others,  suited  for  the  most  august  of 
earthly  spectacles.  We  had  a  very  long  and  tiresome 
day.  i^ight  was  coming  on.  Cold,  tired,  and  gloomy,  we 
alighted  below  the  convent.  Our  caravan  had  fallen 
behind  on  account  of  rough  roads ;  so  that  the  tents  were 
not  raised  till  an  hour  after  night.  We  vainly  labored 
for  comfort  by  running  about.  When  the  bedding  ar¬ 
rived,  I  soon  found  relief  in  a  bale  of  blankets  and  com¬ 
forts.  The  monks  of  the  convent  urged  us  to  lodge  with 
them ;  but  love  for  tent-life  led  us  to  decline  their  prof¬ 
fered  hospitality.  The  night  continued  cold,  against 
which  the  frail  walls  of  our  curtain-house  were  a  poor 
shelter. 

The  next  morning  we  repaired  to  the  convent  to  pay 
our  respects  to  the  superior.  After  much  impatient  and 
Irreverent  shouting  beneath  a  door  in  the  wall,  thirty 
feet  above  ground,  a  long-bearded  monk  suddenly  thrust 
out  his  head,  demanding  the  cause  of  our  unsaintly  noise. 
After  telling  him  our  errand,  he  let  down  a  large  heavy 
rope  with  a  hook  to  it,  to  receive  the  letter  we  had  brought 
from  the  Greek  patriarch  at  Cairo.  When  I  saw  this 
at-a-holy-distance  formality,  I  expected  in  a  few  moments 
to  be  dangling  in  mid-air,  and  submit  to  the  process  of 
being  wound  to  the  top  with  rope  and  windlass.  But 
after  it  was  read,  a  little  old  man  with  a  flowing  white 


A  VENERABLE  MONK. 


129 


beard,  bade  us  welcome  from  the  door  above,  telling  us 
that,  as  a  special  favor,  we  might  enter  through  a  small 
opening  in  the  rear  of  the  wall.  Formerly,  all  had  to 
enter  through  the  upper  door ;  the  rest  were  closed  from 
fear  of  the  Bedouins.  The  convent  has  the  appearance 
of  a  fortress.  A  high  strong  wall  encloses  it,  with  tur¬ 
rets  at  the  corners,  affording  a  shelter  against  the  rapa¬ 
city  and  plunder  of  their  neighbors.  We  stooped  through 
a  low  door,  into  damp  basement  chambers ;  thence  into 
the  central  court,  up  several  stairways,  along  a  winding 
latticed  corridor,  into  a  plain  room  containing  a  divan 
and  a  table,  spread  with  a  white  cloth.  After  Ahmed 
had  told  the  venerable  superior  what  country  we  hailed 
from,  he  came  limping  into  the  room  to  receive  us.  The 
customary  salutation  having  been  performed,  he  told  us 
bow  delighted  he  was  to  see  us  there.  His  long  white 
beard  and  austere  ascetic  features  gave  him  a  venerable 
appearance.  I  own  to  a  strong  feeling  of  reverence  in 
the  presence  of  a  prior  of  such  patriarchal  mien.  I  told 
him  he  enjoyed  a  rare  privilege  to  live  so  near  the  Holy 
Mount.  “  Yes,”  he  replied,  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulder, 

I  should  not  like  to  live  anywhere  else.  I  am  now  an 
old  man,  seventy-eight  years  old.  Six  years  ago  I  had 
my  leg  broken,  and  am  still  lame.  It  is  best  for  me  here, 
where  I  have  now  lived  seventeen  years.”  I  felt  sorry 
that  his  reply  should  diminish  my  respect  for  his  saintly 
motives.  Seated  on  the  floor,  or  rather  on  the  divan, 
which  is  but  a  few  inches  above  it,  he  entertained  us 
with  dates,  cofiee,  and  arrak,  (date-brandy),  a  mischiev¬ 
ous  drug  which  even  the  abstemious  monks  allow  them¬ 
selves  to  indulge  in.  I  was  sorry  to  hear  that  it  even 
sometimes  gets  the  better  of  our  old  friend,  the  superior. 

After  this  short  interview,  Ahmed  employed  a  monk 

I 


130  LEGEND  or  THE  VIRGIN  MARY. 


and  one  of  the  Bedouins,  who  loiter  around  the  convent, 
as  guides,  and  we  started  for  the  top  of  Mount  Sinai. 
We  had  not  gone  far  when  the  path  led  over  steps  cut 
out  of  the  rocks,  winding  upward  through  crags  of 
granite.  In  half  an  hour  we  met  with  sprinklings  of  snow 
in  the  shade,  and  a  small  quantity  of  ice.  While  resting 
at  a  small  rudely-constructed  stone  chapel,  erected  to 
/  the  Virgin  Mary,  the  monk  told  us  its  legend. 

‘‘  There  was  a  time  when  the  monks  of  the  convent 
ran  short  of  bread.  The  Arabs  cut  them  off  from  Cairo, 
where  they  still  have  it  brought  from.  Then  they  daily 
went  on  the  Mount  of  God  to  pray  for  bread.  Going  up 
one  day  they  met  the  Virgin  with  the  child,  where  the 
chapel  now  stands.  She  asked  them  where  they  were 
going.  ‘  On  the  mountain  to  pray  for  bread,’  they  re¬ 
plied.  When  they  returned  to  the  convent  they_found 
a  thousand  camel-loads  of  provision.  In  commemoration 
of  this  event  they  built  her  this  chapel.”  The  figures  of 
these  legends  are  not  always  reliable^  for  some  travellers 
have  forty  camel-loads  instead  of  a  thousand.  And,  ac¬ 
cording  to  Bobinson’s  version,  it  would  appear  even  that 
fleas,  and  not  famine,  were. the  cause  of  distress. 

Higher  up  the  path  led  through  an  arched  doorway. 
Near  this  we  had  to  pause  for  another  little  story.  The 
monk  pointed  to  a  spot,  and  said  that  one  of  his  order^ 
on  his  way  to  the  top,  stopped  there  and  said:  “  If  I  am 
a  good  man,  God  will  permit  me  to  reach  the  sacred 
place;  if  not,  may  I  die  here.”  And  immediately  he 
expired. 

Near  the  top,  in  a  small  plain,  we  came  to  another 
chapel  over  Elijah’s  cave.  He  came  thither  unto  a 
cave  and  lodged  there.”  1  Kings  19:9.  I  passed  through 
two  small  apartments  into  a  third.  Near  an  altar  was 


ELIJAH’S  CAVE. 


131 


a  small  hole  in  a  rock,  barely  large  enough  for  me  to 
creep  into,  and  this  is  to  be  Elijah’s  cave.  Before  the 
chapel  is  a  tall  cypress  tree,  which  the  monk  said  ^his 
order  had  planted  more  than  a  hundred  years.  Near  it 
is  a  well  and  tank  ascribed  to  the  prophet.  And  not 
far  from  here,  the  monk  showed  us  a  dinge  in  a  rock, 
which  he  said  was  the  impress  of  the  camel’s  foot  that 
carried  Mohammed  up  on  the  Mount  of  God.  Ahmed 
replied,  with  orthodox  fervor:  ‘‘That  must  have  been  a 
holy  camel.” 

We  reached  the  summit  just  in  two  hours  from  the  time 
we  started,  including  the  legends  and  delays  at  the  chapels. 
The  area  on  the  top  may  he  fifty  or  sixty  feet  square. 
A  small  chapel  or  church,  half  in  ruins,  and  a  small 
mosque,  crown  its  summit,  representing  the  two  religions 
of  the  East  on  a  spot  which,  in  common,  they  hold 
sacred.  The  Moslem  believes  in  most  of  the  Old  Testa¬ 
ment  saints,  especially  the  patriarchs  and  prophets,  and 
the  leaders  of  Israel.  Mount  Sinai  and  Mount  Moriah 
he  approaches  with  the  profoundest  awe,  but  shows  little 
reverence  for  Calvary.  Both  temples  on  Sinai  v/ere  dis¬ 
figured  by  time,  and  their  walls  by  the  daubing  inscrip¬ 
tions  of  ambitious  travellers.  Though  the  view  is  not 
so  grand  and  extensive  as  that  from  Mt.  Serbal,  it  af¬ 
forded  a  new  standpoint,  and  therefore  a  new  aspect. 
Few  wadys  could  be  seen.  The  endless  complication  of 
twisted  and  tortuous  mountains  and  peaks  hid  them.  To 
what  shall  I  liken  this  singular  scene  ?  It  is  as  if  the 
sea  were  suddenly  petrified  during  a  storm,  when  all  the 
waves  are  boiling  and  tumbling  mountain  high.  It  looks 
as  if  the  mighty  globe  had  been  boiling  over,  jetting 
liquid  rocks  through  winding  fissures,  rolling  and  cool¬ 
ing  into  all  forms  and  colors,  in  some  places  running 


132 


THE  HEBREW  ENCAMPMENT. 


their  bases  together.  If  there  is  a  place  on  our  planet 
calculated  to  give  one  an  idea  of  the  awful  results  of 
Almighty  power  in  full  blast,  this  ought  to  be  it.  There 
is  no  life  nor  verdure  in  the  whole  picture,  yet  its  novelty 
never  tires.  These  towering  piles  of  Creation’s  earliest 
convulsions,  gigantic,  undeciphered  hieroglyphics  of  the 
Creator’s  pen,  stand  alone  in  the  family  of  mountains. 
Their  furrowed  features  point  to  forces  of  which  the 
human  mind,  as  yet,  can  form  no  adequate  conception. 
Whether  you  wearily  thread  your  way  through  laby¬ 
rinthine  wadys,  and  amid  huge  cones  of  granite  and  plu- 
tonic  cinders,  or  look  at  them  from  Serb^l  or  Sinai,  you 
can  hardly  resist  the  impression  that  you  are  in  the  very 
focus  of  creative  power. 

Are  we  on  the  spot  where  the  Law  was  given  ?  In 
vain  we  looked  around  for  a  plain  or  valley  below,  where 
“  Israel  camped  before  the  mount.”  Subsequently,  Rev. 
W.  Arthur,  from  London,  explored  the  wadys  in  the 
rear  of  the  mountain.  He  told  us  at  Beirout,  that  he 
found  a  valley  well  suited  to  this  part  of  the  mountain, 
about  three  miles  long,  and  from  three  quarters  to  a  mile 
and  a  half  wide;  and,  as  he  thought,^ amply  sufficient 
for  the  Hebrew  encampment.  Though  little  of  this 
valley  can  be  seen  from  the  top,  strange  to  say,  the 
mountain  is  seen  from  it,  far  more  grand  and  imposing 
than  from  Wady  Er-Rdhah.  — ^ 

Whether  this  be  the  identical  spot  or  not,  the^ure  air 
and  toil  of  climbing  mountains,  however  sacred,  OTeates 
a  desire  for  food ;  and  here,  at  a  place  toward  which  I 
had  been  accustomed  to  look  from  my  distant  home  with 
almost  adoring  reverence,  we  soon  were  seated  on  the 
bare  rock,  each  with  fowl  in  hand,  stripping  off  substan¬ 
tial  food  as  best  he  could,  d  la  Bedouin.  The  Arab  had 


/ 


GIVING  THE  COMMANDMENTS.  133 

brought  a  few  pieces  of  charcoal  along,  which  he  kindled 
to  make  an  extra  cup  of  coffee — a  beverage  we  had  never 
before  indulged  in  at  lunch.  Just  there  and  then,  a  less 
sumptuous  meal  might  have  been  more  in  place.  The 
poor  Bedouin’s  kind  intentions  excelled  his  knowledge  of 
making  coffee,  a  muddy  juice,  unsettled,  unsugared,  and 
uncreamed.  To  preserve  the  aroma,  the  Bedouins  drink 
their  coffee  unclarified;  its  chief  excellence  consisting  in 
drinking  the  grounds. 

Descending  to  Elijah’s  cave,  we  crossed  the  basin, 
and  ascended  Sefsaf,  one  of  the  peaks  fronting  the  plain 
through  w\iich  we  had  approached  the  mountain  the  day 
before.  Beaching  a  bluff,  about  half  way  up,  which 
overlooked  the  plain,  both  the  guides  refused  to  go  any 
further.  We  continued  a  short  distance  further  up  the 
steep  rock-strewn  side,  when  they  begged  us  to  stop,  as 
a  higher  ascent  could  only  be  made  at  the  greatest  peril. 
But  taking  this  as  a  Bedouin  exaggeration,  we  pushed 
upward ;  the  guides  followed ;  but  Ahmed’s  courage  or 
legs  failed  him.  We  rested  on  a  rock-platform  a  few 
hundred  feet  from  the  summit.  The  monk  and  Arab 
declared  that  no  mortal  had  ever  been  on  the  top,  that 
we  could  not  go  up  there  and  live.  Methought  most 
likely  that  the  plain  facing  this  side  of  the  mountain, 
was  the  only  one  in  which  Israel  could  have  encamped. 
If  so,  the  awful  ceremony  of  giving  the  ten  command¬ 
ments,  between  the  Almighty  and  Moses,  may  have 
taken  place  on  this  rock.  I  shall  never  visit  the  moun¬ 
tain  again.  One  more  effort  and  we  are  on  the  top. 
Now  or  never,  so  far  as  standing  on  the  Holy  Mount  is 
concerned.  It  seemed  safe  at  least  to  attempt  it.  The 
rest  refusing  to  go  any  further,  I  told  them  to  wait  for 
me  till  I  should  make  the  attempt.  Crossing  a  cut  in 
12 


1 


134  A  PERILOUS  SITUATION. 

the  rock,  I  approached  a  large  granite  mass,  round  and 
sloping,  without  any  hold  for  climbing.  My  torn  shoes 
would  not  he  likely  to  slip  on  such  a  surface.  Soon  the 
rock  became  steep  like  the  sides  of  a  large  hakeoven. 
I  used  all  fours,  but  had  nothing  for  the  hands  to  hold 
on  to.  My  feet  commenced  slipping,  and  I  tried  to  turn 
around  to  descend,  but  found  that  I  could  not  turn  with¬ 
out  the  risk  of  falling  over  a  precipice,  hundreds  of  feet 
deep.  I  felt  myself  gradually  sliding  downward.  Provi¬ 
dentially,  I  discovered  a  small  fissure  in  the  round  rock 
into  which  I  clinched  the  end  of  my  fingers ;  there,  on 
those  awful  heights  I  hung,  trembling  in  a  balance  be¬ 
tween  life  and  death,  while  every  nerve  seemed  to  quiver 
with  exertion.  For  a  moment,  1  knew  not  which  way  I 
was  going.  A  sudden  jerk  of  the  arms  regained  my 
equilibrium,  and  I  clambered  hastily  to  the  top. 

Mr.  M - ,  seeing  my  success,  but  not  its  peril,  fol¬ 

lowed.  Midway  up,  he  suddenly  got  the  cramp  and 
cried  for  help.  The  frightened  Arab  ran  to  his  relief, 
and  I,  perhaps  no  less  frightened,  came  from  the  top, 
and  thus  we  pulled  and  pushed  him  up  as  best  we  could. 
This  threw  us  into  a  tremor,  ill-fitted  to^enjoy  the  pros¬ 
pect.  My  first  great  concern  was  how  to  get  my  help¬ 
less  friend  down  the  mountain.  The  whole  plain  of  Er- 
Kahah  spread  out  below  us,  thp  only  considerable  valley 
near  the  mountain  which  would  '^uit  for  the  Hebrew  en¬ 
campment.  From  here,  Moses  (Jould  see  over  the  whole 
camp,  except  that  part  immediately  at  the  base,  where 
Aaron  put  up  the  golden  calf.  And  the  Hebrews  could 
see  the  grand,  terrific  ceremony  on  the  top,  “  thunders 
and  lightnings,  and  a  thick  cloud  upon  the  mount,  and 
the  voice  of  a  trumpet  exceeding  loud;”  ‘‘and  mount 
Sinai  altogether  in  a  smoke.”  Ex.  19.  Out  of  this, 


THE  SMITTEN  ROCK. 


135 


the  rock-stool  on  whicli  we  stood,  rose  up  abruptly  from 
five  hundred  to  a  thousand  feet.  One  single  step  seemed 
sufficient  to  carry  us  to  the  base.  I  could  not  look  down 
without  a  shudder,  and  a  strange,  awful  feeling  of  un¬ 
easiness  led  us  soon  to  descend.  The  Arab  and  myself 
held  on  to  my  friend’s  extremities,  and  so  helped  him 
safely  down.  The  monk  met  us  at  the  foot  of  the  round 
top,  and,  crossing  his  breast,  grasped  our  hands  and  mut¬ 
tered  a  prayer  of  thanks  for  our  deliverance.  Then 
only  I  saw  the  awful  precipice  over  which  I  had  been 
suspended  at  fingers’  end.  How  we  thanked  our  Father 
that  day  for  this  merciful  deliverance  from  danger !  I 
know  not  whether  Moses  or  anybody  else  has  ever  been 
on  the  same  peak ;  but  we  solemnly  concluded,  there  and 
then,  never  to  venture  rashly  upon  such  untried  and  fin- 
known  heights  again.  To  save  time,  we  descended 
over  a  more  direct  course,  down  a  steep,  rugged  ravine, 
opposite  our  tents.  But  what  we  saved  in  time  we  had 
to  make  up  in  labor ;  climbing  and  sliding  down  through 
gorges  and  over  high  rocks,  not  unlike  our  Serbal  tribu¬ 
lations. 

The  following  morning  we  made  an  excursion  to  the 
valley  of  Leja,,  immediately  south  of  Mount  Sinai.  A 
running  brook  of  sweet  water  gives  a  pleasant  contrast 
to  its  otherwise  wild  and  rugged  aspect.  A  large  de¬ 
tached  mass,  from  ten  to  fifteen  feet  high,  has  for  manj 
centuries  been  regarded  as  the  ‘‘rock”  which  Moses 
smote  for  water,  and  this  brook  has  been  running  ever 
since.  It  is  the  only  stream  in  all  this  region,  where  pro¬ 
bably  the  people  got  water  to  “wash  their  clothes,”  in 
preparation  for  the  holy  interview  between  God  and  Moses 
on  the  mount.  Ex.  19  :  10,  14.  It  being  so  near  the 
mountain,  I  could  easily  believe  that  after  Aaron  had 


136  BURNING  OF  THE  GOLDEN  CALF. 

ground  the  golden  calf  to  powder,  he  here  ‘‘  strewed  it 
upon  the  water,  and  made  the  children  of  Israel  drink  of 
it.”  It  would  puzzle  some  of  our  modern  chemists  to  burn 
up  gold  in  fire,  and  grind  it  to  powder.  That  Moses  did 
it,  only  furnishes  another  proof  of  the  extent  of  his 
learning  ‘‘  in  all  the  wisdom  of  the  Egyptians.”  Acts  7  :  22. 

We  are  told  that  “  Moses  took  the  calf  which  they  had 
made,  and  burnt  it  in  the  fire,  and  ground  it  to  powder, 
and  strewed  it  upon  the  water,  and  made  the  children  of 
Israel  drink  of  it.”  Ex.  82  :  20.  It  is  well  known  that  to 
burn  gold  and  reduce  it  to  powder  is  not  an  easy  matter. 
An  eminent  French  chemist  explains  it  thus :  ‘‘  In  the 
place  of  tartaric  acid,  which  we  employ,  Moses  used 
natron,  which  is  Common  in  the  East.  What  follows, 
respecting  his  making  the  Israelites  drink  this  powder, 
proves  that  he  was  perfectly  acquainted  with  the  whole 
effect  of  the  operation.  He  wished  to  increase  the 
punishment  of  their  disobedience,  and  nothing  could 
have  been  more  suitable ;  for,  gold  reduced  and  made 
into  a  draught,  in  the  manner  I  have  mentioned,  has  a 
most  nauseous  taste.” 

In  front  of  the  mountain-peaks  facing  the  broad  plain, 
is  a  small  hill,  looking  almost  as  if  the  hand  of  man  had 
made  it.  “The  Hill  of  Aaron”  it  has  been  called  for 
ages,  on  whose  summit  the  golden  calf  was  worshipped. 
It  cannot  be  seen  from  the  dK)p,  nor  from  any  of  the  tor¬ 
rent-beds  through  which  we^  ascended  and  descended. 
In  this  respect  it  answers  well  to  the  narrative.  Moses 
and  Joshua  heard  “the  noise,”  but  saw  not  the  cause  of 
the  tumult  until  they  “  came  nigh  unto  the  camp.” 

Viewed  from  a  Christian  stand-point,'  the  obstinate, 
fool-hardy  idolatry  of  the  Hebrews,  in  the  face  of  the 
awful  wonders  wrought  in  their  behalf,  is  almost  incre- 


IDOLATRY  OF  THE  HEBREWS.  13T 

dible.  But  four  centuries  of  servitude  had  made  them  a 
nation  of  slaves.  Doubtless  few  of  those  idolaters  at 
Sinai  had  ever  seen  a  Hebrew  service  before  the  Exodus. 
The  principal  god  of  the  Egyptians  was  the  bull  Apis, 
especially  worshipped  at  Memphis.  In  the  absence  of 
priests,  altars,  and  scriptures  of  their  own  religion,  can 
we  wonder  much  that  they  were  partly  heathenized  in 
Egypt  ?  This  accounts  for  their  tumults,  mutinies,  and 
murmurings  on  the  way.  It  is  not  a  very  easy  or  com¬ 
mon  thing  that  “a  nation  is  born  at  once,”  nor  in  a 
year  either ;  born  from  lawdess,  unconfiding,  abject  slaves 
to  obedient,  peaceful  followers  of  Moses.  Every  trial 
excites  a  tumult,  and  when  their  leader  is  out  of  sight 
they  must  have  the  Egyptian  god.  ‘‘  Up,  make  us  gods 
which  shall  go  before  us :  for,  as  for  this  Moses,  the 
man  that  brought  us  up  out  of  Egypt,  we  wot  not  what 
is  become  of  him.”  So  deeply  had  they  imbibed  this 
love  for  the  religion  of  their  oppressors,  that  it  fol¬ 
lowed  the  nation  for  centuries.  Even  Jeroboam  sought 
refuge  in  it  when  he  had  separated  from  Judah.  1  Kings 
12  :  28. 

In  the  afternoon  we  again  visited  the  convent.  The 
superior  received  us  pleasantly,  and  was  even  more  com¬ 
municative  than  on  the  preceding  day.  Seated  Turkish,  or 
tailor-fashion,  in  the  plain  reception-room,  he  entertained 
us  with  coffee.  The  monks  led  us  to  the  several  apart¬ 
ments  of  the  convent.  The  church  is  ornamented  with 
ancient  fresco,  some  richly  gilded.  Gold  stars  are 
wrought  into  the  blue  sky-like  basis  in  the  ceiling.  Silver 
lamps  hang  over  the  altar.  The  floor  is  paved  with 
marble  of  different  colors.  It  dates  from  the  time  of 
Justinian,  at  least  1200  years  back.  At  the  door  of  a 
small  chapel  back  of  the  altar,  our  guide  told  us,  in  the 
12* 


138 


CONVENT  LIFE  AT  SINAI. 


words  whicli  God  used  to  Moses  here  :  ‘‘  Put  off  thy  shoes 
from  off  thy  feet ;  for  the  place  whereon  thou  standest 
is  holy  ground.”  Ex.  3:5.  In  a  recess  of  the  wall  is  a 
silver  slab,  and  over  it  a  small  altar,  covering  the  spot 
where  stood  the  burning  hush  of  Moses,  now  looked  upon 
as  the  most  holy  place  in  the  whole  peninsula.  Besides 
these  there  are  some  twenty  other  chapels  in  the  convent, 
and  also  a  small  Mohammedan  mosque,  able  to  contain 
about  200  worshippers.  The  last  is  no  longer  used.  It 
only  remains  as  a  monument  of  the  trials  and  policy  of 
former  tenants  of  the  convent,  who  submitted  to  its 
erection  to  conciliate  their  Moslem  foes.  The  library  is 
in  a  small  room.  The  monks  say  it  contains  6000  or 
7000  volumes.  I 'think  Robinson’s  estimate  of  1500 
volumes  is  nearer  the  truth.  They  also  said  they  had 
a  Bible  which  Theodosius  transcribed.  The  books  are 
mostly  in  Greek,  and  are  evidently  very  little  used. 

We  were  led  along  winding  corridors  or  balconies, 
across  small  courts,  through  dark  passages,  up  and  down 
stairways  ;  along  some  of  these  the  monks  lived.  Their 
little  gloomy  cells  opened  on  the  corridors.  A  mat  and 
rug,  spread  upon  a  raised  part  of  the  floor  for  a  bed, 
compose  all  their  furniture.  The  frowning  Sinai  above 
them,  with  its  holy  awful  memories ;  a  little  green  spot 
in  the  garden,  consisting  of  a  few  trees  and  plants ; 
close  by  pile^of  their  dead  brethren  unburied,  heaps  of 
human  bones^  —  a  grim  and  ghastly  charnel-house,  — 
these  are  the /objects  on  which  their  eyes*  rest  evermore, 
stirring  up  ^ern  and  sober  reflections.  We  did  not  visit 
the  ehamber  of  Death.  “  It  is  situated  near  the  middle 
of  the  garden.  The  building  is  half  subterranean,  con¬ 
sisting  of  two  rooms  or  vaults,  one  containing  the  bones 
of  priests  and  the  other  those  of  lay-monks.  The  dead 


A  CHAxMBER  of  death. 


139 


bodies  are  first  laid  for  two  or  three  years  on  iron  grates 
in  another  vault ;  and  then  the  skeletons  are  broken  up, 
and  removed  to  these  chambers.  Here  the  bones  are 
laid  together  in  regular  piles,  the  arms  in  one,  the  legs 
in  another,  the  ribs  in  a  third,  etc.  The  bones  of  priests 
and  laymen  are  piled  separately  in  the  different  vaults ; 
except  the  skulls,  which  are  thrown  promiscuously  to¬ 
gether.  The  bones  of  archbishops,  whose  bodies  are 
always  brought  hither  with  their  clothing  and  property 
after  death,  are  kept  separately  in  small  wooden  boxes. 
The  skeleton  of  one  saint  was  pointed  out  to  us  ;  and  also 
those  of  two  ascetics,  who  are  said  to  have  lived  as  her¬ 
mits  in  the  adjacent  mountain,  wearing  shirts  of  mail 
next  the  body,  and  binding  themselves  together  by  the 
leg  with  an  iron  chain,  parts  of  which  are  here  preserved. 
This  is  emphatically  the  house  of  Death,  where  he  has 
now  sat  enthroned  for  centuries,  receiving  every  year 
new  victims,  until  the  chambers  are  nearly  filled  up  with 
this  assembly  of  the  dead.  It  must  be  a  solemn  feeling, 
one  would  think,  with  which  the  monks  repair  to  this 
spot,  and  look  upon  these  relics  of  mortality,  —  their  pre¬ 
decessors,  their  brethren,  their  daily  companions,  all 
present  here  before  them  in  their  last  earthly  shape  of 
ghastliness ;  with  whom,  too,  their  own  bone§  must  so 
soon  in  like  manner  be  mingled  piecemeal,  and  be  gazed 
upon  perhaps  like  them  by  strangers  from  a  distant 
world.  I  know  of  no  place  where  the  living  and  the  dead 
come  in  closer  contact  with  each  other;  or  where  the 
dread  summons  to  prepare  for  death  rises  with  a  stronger 
power  before  the  mind.” 

The  convent  belongs  to  the  Greek  Church.  It  has 
had  to  pass  through  many  vicissitudes  since  its  origin. 
These  children  of  Amalek  have  often  assailed  the  monks 


140 


MONKS  OF  SINAI. 


with  brutal  cruelty.  Their  strongly  fortified  walls 
shield  them  in  part ;  then  they  have  clans  of  Arabs  to 
protect  them,  and  in  return  they  supply  them  with  bread. 
Some  of  these  were  loitering  about  the  convent  at  the 
time,  receiving  daily  two  loaves  apiece.  The  monks  said 
that  about  1000  of  these  were  at  present  kept  in  bread 
by  them. 

The  convent  has-  a  large  gate,  which  has  been  walled 
up  a  hundred  years.  Since  that  time  no  Archbishop 
has  resided  here.  It  is  said,  that  on  his  accession 
this  gate  must  he  thrown  open  for  six  months ;  during 
which  the  Arabs  are  at  liberty  to  eat  and  drink  as  much 
as  they  please.  To  avoid  the  expense  of  such  greedy 
tribes  of  hoarders,  the  Archbishop  lives  elsewhere,  and 
the  gate  is  kept  closed.  Five  hundred  years  ago  there 
were  400  monks  in  the  convent ;  we  found  but  twenty. 
Excepting  the  superior,  they  are  as  plump  and  well-to-do 
looking  set  of  monks  as  I  have  seen  anywhere.  Their 
sluggish  indolent  habits  show  little  of  that  abstemious 
austerity  of  life  found  in  many  other  convents.  They 
seem  healthy  and  strong,  and  certainly  look  none  the 
worse  for  their  fasting.  Their  physiognomies  indicate 
a  negative  harmless  character,  with  little  of  earnest  posi¬ 
tive  grace  and  grit.  They  eat  no  flesh,  and  drink  no 
wine,  but^drink  date-brandy,  which  is  worse.  Some  of 
them  live  to  a  very  great  age.  Every  morning  at  seven 
they  have  mass ;  on  Saturday  they  have  it  twice ;  and 
during  fasting  seasons  still  oftener.  How  they  put  in 
the  rest  of  their  time,  without  reading  and  manual  labor, 
I  cannot  tell.  Some  must  cook  and  bake,  but  they  have 
a  short  and  easy  method  of  doing  this.  A  few  mechani¬ 
cal  implements  were  lying  about  the  premises,  hut  evi¬ 
dently  little  used.  The  severest  part  of  their  secluded 


ARAB  CIVILIZATION. 


141 


life  must  be  the  slow  dull  drag  of  vacant  hours  and 
days — an  ever-recurring  insipid  monotony ;  in  their  case, 
I  fear,  not  even  much  relieved  by  those  acts  of  penance, 
compunction,  and  prayer,  usual  with  recluses. 

It  is  remarkable  how  impervious  these  Sinaitic  Bedouins 
have  hitherto  been  to  civilization  and  Christianity.  In 
their  domestic  and  social  habits  they  are  as  perfectly 
patriarchal  as  the  age  of  Abraham ;  in  fact  they  are  a 
specimen  of  that  period  transferred  to  the  nineteenth 
century.  But  a  few  hundred  miles  from  Egypt  and  the 
Mediterranean,  and  with  the  great  Anglo-Indian  tho¬ 
roughfare  along  their  border  and  in  sight  of  some  of 
their  encampments,  they  are  as  free  from  modern  cus¬ 
toms  as  if  they  were  inhabitants  of  another  planet.  They 
can  never  conceal  their  astonishment  at  seeing  persons 
sitting  on  chairs  instead  of  the  bare  earth,  and  eating  at 
tables  by  means  of  knives  and  forks  instead  of  having  all 
they  eat  in  one  large  bowl  on  the  table  which  nature  has 
made,  and  extricating  their  several  portions  with  their 
own  hands  as  best  they  can.  Ineffectual  efforts  have 
been  made  to  Christianize  them.  The  convent  at  Mount 
Sinai  has  been  amongst  them  for  over  a  thousand  years, 
and  they  are  as  hopelessly  sunken  in  heathenism  as 
when  it  was  first  built  by  Justinian.  Professing  the 
Mohammedan  faith,  they  are  without  mosques  and  priests, 
are  rarely  seen  to  pray  but  at  the  tombs  of  their  so- 
called  saints,  though  they  irreverently  and  often  pro¬ 
fanely  appeal  to  Allah  (God)  in  conversation. 

A  certain  business  shrewdness  they  possess,  though 
most  of  them  are  as  innocent  of  mathematics  as  a  parrot. 
Some  have  no  idea  at  all  of  figures.  They  will  tell  you 
it  is  five  miles,  and  twenty  miles,  to  a  certain  place, 


142 


MONEY  OF  THE  BEDOUINS. 


almost  in  the  same  breath.  They  are  passionately  fond 
of  money,  and  hoard  it  up  no  one  knows  where.  They 
can  hardly  look  at  a  traveller  without  crying  buck- 
sheesh.”  Turkish  and  French  money  is  mostly  used 
among  them.  Without  banks  or  stores,  or  any  chances 
to  invest  money  but  in  a  few  camels  and  goats,  they  must 
either  bury  or  hide  it.  Their  expenses  are  very  trifling. 
The  nearest  possible  approach  to  primitive  nature  is  the 
cheapest  mode  of  life.  All  the  garments  of  a  Bedouin, 
including  his  girdle  and  turban,  cannot  cost  more  than 
fifty  cents  or  a  dollar.  And  as  they  are  not  worn  much 
by  washing,  they  can  use  them  for  a  long  time.  Their 
principal  coat,  toga,  shirt,  or  whatever  it  may  be  called, 
is  made  of  coarse  unbleached  muslin.  Invariably  this 
has  an  inside  breast-pocket,  in  which  they  carry  theij* 
money  and  presents.  To  this  custom  the  Bible  alludes 
in  Isaiah  65  :  6,  and  especially  our  Saviour  in  Luke  6  :  38. 
To  avoid  sun-strokes  the  Bedouins,  like  most  persons  in 
the  East,  wear  a  turban  —  a  thick  twisted  cloth  coiled 
around  the  head ;  and  I  noticed  that  they  never  slept 
in  moonlight  without  pulling  their  coarse  blankets  over 
the  head,  to  shelter  them  against  the  equally  dangerous 
efiects  of  the  moon.  The  same  sun  and  moon  shone  here 
when  the  Psalmist  wrote  :  ‘‘  The  sun  shall  not  smite  thee 
by  day,  nor  the  moon  by  night.”  Psalm  121  :  6. 

The  Bedohj^ins  have  a  coarse  outer  garment,  which  they 
usually  take  yith  them  on  their  journeys,  for  a  covering 
by  night,  and/ a  protection  during  cold  and  storm.  Most 
of  these  Sire/nW  in  one  piece,  without  a  seam  or  stitch,  only 
two  holes  through  which  they  thrust  the  arms.  Such  a 
one  Christ  wore,  “  a  coat  without  seam,  woven  from  the 
top  to  the  bottom.”  John  19  :  23.  When  he  wanted  to 


chkist’s  coat. 


143 


wash  his  disciples’  feet  he  ‘‘laid  aside  his  garments;” 
doubtless  his  blanket-cloak.  At  his  triumphal  entry  into 
Jerusalem,  “the  multitude  spread  their  garments  in  the 
way “  Bartimeus  cast  away  his  garment  and  the  dis¬ 
ciples  “  cast  their  garments  on  the  colt”  which  they 
brought  to  Christ.  These,  and  many  other  kindred 
allusions,  find  illustrations  in  the  unsewn  blanket  of  the 
modern  Bedouin. 


1 


144  PLAIN  OF  ER-RAHAH 


CHAPTER  VII. 


/rnni  Binnnt  linoi  tn  (0jinir-itlifr. 


As  our  further  journey  took  us  beyond  the  limits  of 
the  Sinai  tribe,  we  were  here  obliged  to  hire  a  new  set 
of  men  and  camels  from  the  tribe  through  whose  terri¬ 
tory  we  intended  to  travel.  Their  tardy  arrival  gave  us 
an  additional  day.  We  strolled  around  the  foot  of  the 
mountain,  and  over  the  plain  of  Er-Rahah,  on  which,  it  is 
supposed,  the  Hebrews  were  encamped  during  the  giving 
of  the  Law.  It  is  about  half  a  mile  wi(m,  and  two  miles 
long.  But  even  this,  large  as  it  is  for  this  region,  would 
not  furnish  room  for  the  whole  Ihultitude.  Besides  this, 
however,  there  are  smaller  valleys  around  the  mountain, 
in  which  many  may  have  encamped. 

Most  probably  Mount  Sinai  means  this  group  of  moun¬ 
tain-peaks  resting  on  a  common  base.  Possibly  one  of 
the  two  peaks  on  which  I  had  stood  was  the  stage  of  that 
awful  transaction  between  God  and  Moses.  But  seeing 
half  a  dozen  others  grouped  around  them,  whose  claims 
might  be  urged  with  equal  plausibility,  I  could  not  feel 
absolutely  certain  with  respect  to  any  one  of  them. 
Robinson’s  Sinai  is  only  one  of  a  number  of  peaks  ;  and 
so  is  the  traditional  one.  It  would  have  afforded  a  plea¬ 
sant  reverie  to  sit  down  on  one  of  these,  fully  convinced 
of  their  identity,  as  many  had  done  before  us,  and  give 
oneself  up  to  the  impressions  of  the  awful  scene.  But  r 


MEMORIES  OF  SINAI. 


145 


after  very  long  and  balancing  arguments  on  the  spot,  I 
felt  that  nothing  short  of  inspired  certitude  could  fix  on 
the  identical  top.  There  can  be  little  doubt  to  an  im¬ 
partial  mind,  however,  that  this  group  of  mountains,  cir¬ 
cling  around  Horeb,  with  this  remarkable  plain  before 
them,  unlike  any  other  that  we  saw  in  the  peninsula, 
answers  most  completely  to  the  narrative.  The  full  grand 
view  we  had  from  the  plain,  on  the  last  day,  with  our 
Bibles  in  hand,  only  confirm,  d  this  conviction. 

Its  base  clearly  shows  that  it  is  a  “  mount  that  might 
be  touched;”  and  therefore  Moses  had  to  “set  bounds 
about  it”  to  prevent  the  people  from  breaking  through 
into  the  holy  scene.  I  could  believe  with  the  credulity 
of  a  child,  and  the  whole  ceremony  was  before  my  vision 
like  a  vivid  reality.  “  There  were  thunders  and  light¬ 
nings,  and  a  thick  cloud  upon  the  mount,  and  the  voice 
of  the  trumpet  exceeding  loud ;  so  that  all  the  people 
that  was  in  the  camp  trembled.  And  Moses  brought 
forth  the  people  out  of  the  camp  to  meet  with  God ;  and 
they  stood  at  the  nether  part  of  the  mount.  And 
Mount  Sinai  was  altogether  on  a  smoke,  because  the 
Lord  descended  upon  it  in  fire :  and  the  smoke  thereof 
ascended  as  the  smoke  of  a  furnace,  and  the  whole 
mount  quaked  greatly.  And  when  the  voice  of  the 
trumpet  sounded  long,  and  waxed  louder  and  louder, 
Moses  spake,  and  God  answered  him  by  a  voice.  And 
the  Lord  came  down  upon  Mount  Sinai,  on  the  top  of 
the  mount:  and  the  Lord  called  Moses  up  to  the  top  of 
the  mount;  and  Moses  went  up.”  Ex.  19.  All  this  I" 
could  locate  and  picture  to  myself  with  almost  the  vivid¬ 
ness  of  the  actual  scene. 

Nowhere  can  there  be  found  a  more  appropriate 
“  footstool  ”  for  the  Lawgiver.  Every  line  and  feature 
13  K 


146 


THE  STATUE  OF  MOSES. 


of  the  picture  reminds  one  of  stern,  resistless  laws. 
Steep,  rough  crags,  frowning  clilFs,  granite  boulders,  and 
mountain  base,  have  here  stood  and  defied  the  elements 
since  the  infancy  of  Time,  and  still  defy.  While  at 
Rome  I  often  gazed  with  mute  wonder  at  Angelo’s  fa¬ 
mous  statue  of  Moses,  and  vainly  strove  to  learn  why 
he  should  represent  the  meekest  of  men  with  such  a 
stern  frown  and  defying  features.  Sitting  before  Mount 
Sinai,  I  had  a  glimpse  of  the  artist’s  vision,  and  an  elo¬ 
quent  eulogy  on  his  genius.  Esmrywhere  you  encounter 
the  symbols  of  inflexible  Law,  which  say:  Obey,  or  die.” 
The  naked,  life- deserted  majesty  which  awes  one  at 
every  step,  confused  bluffs  and  bold  rock-billows,  tang¬ 
ling  and  rolling  into  each  other,  as  if  the  Almighty  had 
held  his  arm  over  the  sea,  when  in  the  full  dash  and 
turmoil  of  a  storm,  and  bade  the  waves  stand  suddenly 
still  in  huge  rock  and  granite  forms ;  all  these  stamp  the 
mind  with  the  image  of  a  terrific  Law.  After  wander¬ 
ing  through  the  wilderness  of  Sin,  and  looking  down 
from  Serbal  into  the  labyrinths  of  ridges  and  ravines, 
and  then  quietly  strolling  around  Sinai,  one  is  in  a  fit 
mood  to  read  and  feel  the  force  of  the  Commandments, 
and  can  hear  Moses  speak,  and  God^answer  him  with 
a  voice,”  more  impressively  than  anywhere  else. 

The  hush  of  the  grave  reigns  here.  Two  or  three 
millions  of  human  beings,  young  and  old,  great  and 
small,  must  have  filled  the  valleys  with  the  hum  and  roll¬ 
ing  reverberations  of  strange  sounds.  The  sepulchral 
silence,  and  a  singular  peculiarity  of  the  atmosphere, 
enable  one  to  hear  sounds  at  a  great  distance.  Tho 
Bedouins  say  a  strange  noise  is  sometimes  heard,  whicii 
they  think  proceeds  from  the  bells  of  a  convent  in  the 
interior  of  the  mountain.  It  is  said,  originally  the 


THE  SILENCE  OF  SINAI. 


147 


monks  lived  on  tke  top  of  the  mount,  but  were  driven 
down  by  these  strange  sounds.  The  falling  of  rocks,  or 
the  rolling  of  sand  down  the  mountain  side,  and  even 
the  sound  of  human  voices,  may  partly  account  for  these 
strange  stories.  But  what  a  fearful  shower  of  claps 
that  “thunder^’  must  have  produced  in  a  region  where 
every  report  multiplies  and  creates  many  others  as  it 
rolls  around  bluffs  and  through  rugged  gorges !  And  while 
this  cracks  away  into  the  distance,  not  half  expended, 
another  and  another  drops  in  fresh  explosion,  and  rolls 
its  progeny  around  the  mountain.  Then,  too,  how  these 
and  other  mountains  of  the  wilderness  must  have  rung 
as  the  vast  encampment  broke  up  at  every  station,  with 
the  shout :  “  Rise  up.  Lord,  and  let  Thine  enemies  be 
scattered ;  and  let  them  that  hate  Thee  flee  before 
Thee.”  And  in  the  evening,  when  the  high  rocks  cast 
their  shadows  athwart  the  valleys,  they  encamped  with 
the  shout :  “  Return,  0  Lord,  unto  the  many  thousands 
of  Israel.”  Num.  10  ;  35-36. 

No  sound  of  bug  or  singing  bird  is  heard.  Not  one 
did  I  hear  during  our  three  days  at  the  mount.  Mute 
hugs  and  birds  of  prey  are  here.  Vultures  and  eagles 
are  occasionally  seen  perched  on  rocky  heights,  or  soar¬ 
ing  over  them.  But  no  lowing  of  herds  nor  bleating  of 
sheep  is  heard.  The  goats  of  the  Bedouins  are  a  quiet 
animal.  No  rustling  leaves,  nor  the  shouting  play  and 
prattle  of  childhood.  The  region  is  deserted  by  every 
note  in  Life’s  melody.  The  only  cheerful  sound  is  the 
faint  murmuring  of  the  brook  Moses  brought  from  the 
Rock.  It  is  like  the  desolation  and  silence  of  a  ruined 
cathedral,  whose  porches,  columns,  aisles,  and  altars  still 
remain ;  but  the  tuneless  pipes  of  the  organ  have  been 
hushed,  without  a  living  hand  even  to  evoke  jarring  dis- 


II 


148 


‘‘shittim”  wood. 

cord.  The  living,  praising  hearts  and  voices  have  been 
hushed  in  death,  and  the  tall  arches  ring  with  the  spec¬ 
tral  sounds  of  strange  echoes. 

What  few  trees  are  found  here  are  mostly  acacia, 
which  the  Arabs  call  sont,’’  the  same  as  the  Burning 
Bush.  Very  little  different  from  this  is  the  ‘‘sayal,”  or 
ancient  “shittah,”  of  which  the  ark  and  altar  were 
built.  It  is  a  species  of  thorn,  the  size  of  a  large  peach 
tree,  and  sometimes  even  larger.  They  have  few  leaves, 
and  have  almost  the  appearance  of  dead  trees.  How 
remarkable  that  the  very  trees  from  which  God  com¬ 
manded  them  to  get  ‘‘shittim  wood”  for  the  sacred 
structures,  should  have  perpetuated  themselves  for  more 
than  3000  years  in  this  sterile  region  —  the  living  monu¬ 
ments  of  the  only  historic  drama  that  was  ever  acted  in 
this  marvellous  region  !  This,  moreover,  is  the  only  solid 
strong  wood  found  here.  The  small  ‘^juniper”  of  Elijah, 
is  more  like  our  willow,  too  soft  and  pulpy  for  building 
purposes.  Hence  they  only  could  use  ‘^shittim  wood.” 

The  black,  goatskin  tents  of  the  Bedouins  around 
here  are  like  ‘‘the  tents  of  Kedar,”  of  which  Solomon 
sings.  They  live  chiefly  from  their  goats  and '  camels. 
Their  cares  and  wants  are  few.  Two  black-veiled  Arab 
girls  led  a  few  goats  along  the  high  slope  of  the  moun¬ 
tain,  in  quest  of  straggling,  aromatic  shrubs  and  grass, 
like  the  daughters  of  Jethro,  whom  Moses  met  here. 
Ex.  2  :  16. 

We  need  not  wonder  that  the  wilderness  of  Sinai 
should  have  been  peopled  by  persons  who  fled  the  haunts 
of  men.  While  Egypt  was  the  parent  of  monasticism, 
and  its  burning  deserts  suitable  fields  for  its  self-deny¬ 
ing  practice,  the  rock-fields  of  Sinai  offered  shelter  and 
seclusion  equally  adapted  for  such  objects.  According 


THE  EEEUGE  OF  HOREB. 


149 


to  Burckhardtj  there  was  a  time  when  six  thousand 
monks  abode  around  Mount  Sinai.  The  cells  of  Feiran, 
and  the  numerous  inscriptions  of  Mokatteh,  point  to  a 
period  when  there  must  have  been  quite  a  settlement  of 
hermits  at  Rephidim. 

The  Bible  tells  us  of  two  pilgrims  who  sought  peace 
and  retirement  at  Iloreh  or  Sinai,  both  fugitives  from 
wicked  rulers,  earnest  mighty  souls.  Moses  slew  an 
Egyptian  tyrant,  then  sought  refuge  from  the  avenging 
cruelty  of  Pharaoh  in  the  Wilderness  of  Sinai.  While 
lingering  in  this  solitude,  God  appeared  to  him  in 
Horeb,  and  sent  him  back  to  deliver  his  brethren.  Ex. 
3  :  1. 

Jezebel  threatened  to  kill  Elijah.  Then  “he  arose 
and  went  for  his  life”  through  “  Beer-sheba”  “into  the 
wilderness,”  and  came  to  “  Horeb  the  mount  of  God.” 
Then,  as  now,  the  shade  was  scarce  here ;  “he  sat  down 
under  a  juniper  tree,”  a  small  bush,  not  unlike  our  elder, 
whose  grateful,  though  scanty  shade  we  often  courted 
here.  He  too  received  a  divine  message  to  return  on  a 
fresh  errand  for  the  Almighty :  by  the  way,  a  very 
strong  argument  that  God  does  not  wish  us  to  flee  dan¬ 
ger,  but  to  conquer  it.  Both  had  to  return  from  their 
solitude  to  their  work  in  the  bad  and  busy  world.  1 
Kings  19. 

Paul,  in  describing  his  conversion  to  the  Galatians, 
says :  “  I  went  into  Arabia.”  Gal.  1  :  17.  He  had  not 
enjoyed  the  immediate  tuition  of  Christ,  as  the  other 
apostles  had ;  and  therefore  he  retires  into  solitude  for  a 
season,  to  prepare  for  his  office,  by  studying  the  law, 
meditation  and  prayer.  To  what  part  of  Arabia  he  went 
we  are  not  informed.  Mount  Sinai  then  was  a  shrine 
frequently  visited  by  zealous  Jews,  such  as  Paul  had 
13* 


150 


PAUL  AT  SINAI. 


been.  In  the  fourth  chapter  he  speaks  of  the  two  cove* 
nants  ;  “  The  one  from  the  Mount  Sinai  which  gendereth 
to  bondage,  which  is  Agar.  For  this  Agar  is  Mount 
Sinai  in  Arabia.”  There  is  at  least  some  ground  for  the 
inference  that  Paul  too  may  have  been  a  pilgrim  to  Sinai, 
and  from  here  “  returned  again  to  Damascus,”  as  Elijah 
had  done  before  him. 

March  20th.  —  How  thankful  we  felt  for  this  visit  to 
the  Mount  of  God,  and  thankful,  too,  when  the  hour  of 
departure  arrived  !  One  unaccustomed  to  its  dreary,  stern 
desolation,  will  find  in  a  few  days  that  it  gendereth  a 
sense  of  unrest.  There  is  an  unsatisfying  pleasure  in 
pitching  one’s  tent  long  near  the  Mount  that  can  be 
touched,  that  burned  with  fire,”  amid  “blackness,  dark¬ 
ness,  and  tempest.”  Vfith  light  hearts  we  turned  our 
faces  from  Sinai  towards  Zion.  Ahmed  had  employed 
a  certain  number  of  Bedouins  and  camels.  But  as  the 
“  hard  times  ”  in  the  wilderness  seldom  gave  them  a 
chance  to  earn  money,  they  flocked  in  until  our  caravan 
promised  to  become  rather  a  large  and  expensive  affair. 
The  Bedouins  have  their  own  way  of  doing  things.  Bid¬ 
den  or  unbidden,  they  invited  themselves  to  the  feast. 
There  was  great  scrambling  and  grabbing  for  loading ; 
once  a  good  pile  of  this  is  on  a  camel’s  back,  his  Arab 
master  considers  himself  employed.  But  there  was  not 
enough  for  all,  and  so  two  held  on  to  the  same  piece, 
pulling  in  different  directions,  their  faces  twisted  into  a 
grin  of  vengeance,  screaming  and  hallooing  furiously. 
Then  comes  a  third  claimant  to  settle  the  dispute,  as  the 
monkey  did  with  the  cheese.  The  noise,  and  clamoring 
rage  of  the  Arabs  presented  a  scene  of  the  most  savage 
confusion.  The  few  Turkish  soldiers  placed  here  to  pre¬ 
serve  peace  and  protect  travellers,  only  increased  the 


TOMB  OF  AN  ARAB  SAINT. 


151 


riot.  Finally,  Ahmed  took  the  law  into  his  own  hands, 
administering  summary  justice  with  his  stick,  and  restored 
the  peace  of  the  camp.  Again  and  again  I  looked  hack 
for  the  last  time  on  Horeh  as  we  rode  off  through  Wady 
Sheikh,  until  the  last  bluff  disappeared  behind  the  end 
of  a  ridge.  An  hour  after  we  came  to  a  small  mosque 
with  a  white  conical  roof,  containing  the  tomb  of  Sheikh 
Saleh,  an  Arab  saint.  A  few  grave-stones  are  scattered 
around  it,  where  the  Towara  Arabs  bury  their  dead. 
They  say  the  saint  had  been  a  companion  of  Moses  and 
Mohammed,  and  that  he  died  while  on  a  journey  with 
the  Prophet  through  here.  In  their  ignorance  of  sacred 
history,  they  regard  Noah,  Moses,  Christ,  and  Mohammed 
as  having  lived  at  the  same  time.  His  wooden  coffin  is 
supposed  to  be  above  the  grave.  This  was  covered  with 
a  white  cloth,  and  rags  and  tattered  shawls  were  hung 
on  sticks  placed  around  it.  One  of  the  Arabs  asked  for 
money  to  pay  for  the  lights  kept  burning  here  day  and 
night,  which  he  tied  in  one  corner  of  the  covering.  Much 
as  they  love  money,  none  would  touch  this,  though  it 
remain  here  for  a  long  time.  They  approach  the  tomb 
with  reverence,  and  some  say  their  prayers  there. 

We  had  now  entered  a  broader  valley,  named  after 
this  saint.  Shepherd  girls,  climbing  after  their  flocks, 
showed  that  a  Bedouin  encampment  was  near.  At  noon 
we  were  obliged  to  lunch  on  the  hot,  unshaded  sand.  The 
next  day  we  met  with  many  shittim  trees,  some  as  large 
as  a  medium-sized  apple  tree.  Feeling  weary,  I  dis¬ 
mounted  and  walked  several  miles  ahead  in  quest  of 
shade,  to  rest  while  the  others  would  bring  up  the  cara¬ 
van.  Coming  to  a  fork  of  the  narrow  valley,  the  path 
disappeared.  After  reclining  here  and  reading  awhile, 
the  thought  occurred  to  me  that  possibly  I  might  have 


152 


DESERT  SAND-R  I  VT:  R  S. 


strayed  off  the  track  altogether.  To  be  lost  in  this  endless 
confusion  of  mountain  gorges,  exposed  to  the  rapacious 
cruelty  of  the  Arabs,  without  bread,  water,  or  the  lan¬ 
guage  to  ask  for  it,  would  be  no  ordinary  calamity. 
While  musing  over  my  melancholy  situation  in  such  an 
event,  repeated  shouts,  but  faintly  heard,  revealed  my 
Arab  with  his  camel  in  the  distance,  throwing  up  his 
hands  and  crying,  “  Howaje,  howaje  !  ”  I  made  haste  to 
meet  him,  and  soon  found  that  my  surmises  were  correct. 
Among  the  numerous  creep-holes  and  branch-valleys  I 
strayed  into  the  wrong  one,  and  had  I  gone  much  further 
it  might  have  cost  days  to  find  me. 

Here,  for  the  first  time,  we  met  the  sand-rivers  of  the 
desert.  The  Wilderness  of  Sinai  is  not,  as  some  suppose, 
a  vast  sheet  of  sand.  The  surface  mostly  consists  of 
coarse  gravel,  pebbles  and  rocks ;  but  here  were  deep 
sand-beds,  like  drifted  heaps  of  granular  snow,  through 
which  the  camels  toiled  with  trembling,  unsteady  steps. 
Trackless  as  the  sea,  none  but  the  native  Bedouin  could 
possibly  steer  toward  the  desired  country  here.  The 
stranger  has  great  difficulty  to  find  the  way  in  these 
pathless  sand  regions.  The  camel-tracks  are  soon  covered 
over  by  the  sand-storms.  In  some  places  stone-heaps 
are  piled  up  to  direct  the  traveller.  Just  as  Jeremiah 
(31  :  21,)  has  it :  “  Set  thee  up  way-marhs  :  make  thee 
high  heaps^  set  thine  heart  toward  the  highway,  even  the 
way  which  thou  wentest.”  Again  there  was  no  shade  in 
which  to  enjoy  our  frugal  noon-day  meal.  We  hung  the 
mat  over  a  dead  bush,  which  gave  us  enough  to  cover 
head  and  shoulders  as  we  lay  prostrate  under  it.  We 
passed  singular  rock-formations ;  granite,  sandstone, 
and  limestone  succeeded  each  other  in  abrupt  ledges, 
green,  grey,  black,  red,  white,  brown,  and  sometimes 


ENCAMPMENT  AT  HAZEROTH. 


15S 


all  these  colors  commingling  in  blended  streaks.  Huge 
sand-rocks  rose  like  islands  out  of  these  sand-rivers, 
covered  with  inscriptions,  and  a  tissue  of  pores  like  mag¬ 
nified  honey-combs.  The  weather  was  intensely  hot ; 
heat  poured  from  above  and  teemed  from  the  sand, 
and  every  little  breath  of  air  through  the  narrow  valley 
was  like  a  blast  from  a  hot  oven.  Our  water  from  Mount 
Sinai  became  even  warmer  and  less  palatable  than  the 
Nile  water. 

We  encamped  in  Hazeroth,  where  Miriam  was  smitten 
with  leprosy,  because  she  and  Aaron  “spake  against 
Moses  because  of  the  Ethiopian  woman  whom  he  had 
married.”  Num.  12  :  1.  Faint  and  weary,  we  hailed  the 
rest  of  the  Sabbath  with  unusual  delight.  The  valley 
seemed  gorged  with  heat.  We  resorted  to  every  pos¬ 
sible  expedient  for  relief.  Only  the  roof  of  the  tent  was 
left  for  shade,  the  rest  all  open  to  get  air  if  possible. 
The  thermometer  rose  to  121  in  the  sun,  and  93  in  the 
shade.  Still,  on  Monday  morning,  we  resumed  our  jour- 
ney,  greatly  refreshed  in  body  and  spirit.  Toward  noon 
we  were  hailed  by  an  Arab  whom  Ahmed  had  despatched 
from  Wady  Feiran,  to  engage  for  us  the  services  of 
Sheikh  Hussein  at  Akaba,  in  advance  of  other  travellers. 
He  informed  us  that  Hussein  was  preparing  for  war  with 
a  neighboring  tribe,  and  therefore  could  not  take  us  to 
Petra  through  the  territory  of  his  enemy.  We  had  all 
along  counted  on  getting  to  Petra,  next  to  Mount  Sinai 
the  most  interesting  place  outside  of  Palestine.  Good 
Friday  and  Easter  we  fondly  hoped  to  spend  at  Jerusalem. 
Hussein  was  our  only  hope  of  gaining  this  two-fold  object. 
The  news  of  the  messenger  seemed  to  cut  off  all  hope  of 
attaining  either,  and,  besides,  would  detain  us  a  week 
longer  in  the  wilderness.  It  was  like  the  Hebrew  disap- 


154 


THE  FIERY  SERPENTS. 


pointment  in  miniature.  Mrs.  S - soon  found  relief 

in  a  gush  of  tears ;  the  rest,  less  given  to  the  melting  mood 
than  the  gentle  sex,  choked  away  their  grief  in  a  few 
hours  of  sullen  manly  gloom. 

At  noon  we  entered  a  narrow  gorge.  Wady  El-Ain 
(valley  of  the  well),  so-called  from  a  small  brackish  rill 
that  ripples  through  it  for  a  short  distance,  then  soaks . 
away  again  in  the  sand.  It  is  quite  narrow,  the  rocks 
rising  perpendicularly  to  1000  feet,  ledge  lapping  over 
ledge  like  the  streets  in  Eastern  cities,  where  the  upper 
stories  project  and  almost  meet.  As  we  proceeded,  the 
intricate  bluffs  uncoiled  themselves,  disclosing  at  every 
turn  new  aspects  of  grandeur.  A  few  palm  trees  grew 
along  the  water,  and  occasionally  on  the  rocks  was  “  the 
hyssop  that  springeth  out  of  the  wall.”  1  Kings  4  :  33. 
All  else  was  bare  and  barren. 

When  Moses  led  the  Hebrews  through  this  “  great  and 
terrible  wilderness,”  it  abounded  with  “fiery  serpents 
and  scorpions.”  Deut.  8  : 15.  In  many  places  the  ground, 
or  rather  the  rocks,  are  alive  with  serpents  and  large 
lizards,  some  a  foot  or  more  in  length,  with  skins  that 
shine  like  pearls.  These  reptiles  are  often  of  a  bright 
blue  and  green  color,  and  dart  across  your  path,  and 
under  the  rocks  and  loose  stones,  like  arrows.  May  not 
these  shining,  dazzling  reptiles  be  the  fiery  serpents  with 
which  the  Lord  scourged  the  Hebrews  ?  Hum.  21 :  6.  The 
wilderness  also  still  abounds  with  scorpions,  the  size  of  a 
large  beetle.  They  usually  hide  below  loose  stones,  and 
are  very  poisonous.  The  first  thing  in  putting  up  our 
tent,  was  to  turn  over  all  the  stones  on  the  ground  so 
as  to  clear  away  the  scorpions. 

Threading  down  this  deep  road  with  our  long  line  of 
camels,  the  view  suddenly  opened  into  the  distance,  and 


THE  GULF  OF  AKABA. 


155 


there  were  the  waters  of  the  Gulf  of  Akaha,  and  beyond 
them  the  hills  of  Arabia  Petra.  What  a  feast  when  the 
eye  escapes  from  the  narrow  rock-bound  view  of  cliffs  and 
sand,  to  look  out  once  more  over  a  varied  scene  of  land 
and  sea !  The  camels  were  urged  on  at  a  quicker  pace 
to  get  into  the  cooling  sea-breeze  along  the  shore.  Large 
shoals  of  sea-monsters,  like  large  logs,  rolled  about  on 
the  surface,  which  we  took  for  porpoises  and  sharks. 
Regardless  of  these,  we  plunged  into  the  cooling  gulf, 
which  washed  away  the  melancholy  humors  of  a  whole 
week. 

We  encamped  near  the  sea  amid  a  palm-grove.  The 
beach  was  strewn  with  coral  and  sea-shells  of  every  size 
and  hue.  Till  late  at  night  we  sat  before  the  door  of 
the  tent,  watching  and  listening  to  the  silvery  weaves 
rolling  and  breaking  on  the  shore,  inhaling  the  exhilar¬ 
ating  sea-air,  and  pouring  out  our  grateful  hearts  in 
“  Sweet  Home.”  Watching  the  stars  as  one  by  one  they 
dropped  behind  the  adjacent  western  hills,  we  mused 
and  spake  of  our  homes  way  off  in  the  West,  over  the 
broad  ocean,  and  of  our  homes  in  heaven.  Far  out  in 
the  sea  we  heard  the  song  of  a  few  Arabs,  who  had 
mounted  palm  logs,  and  paddled  out  to  catch  fish  for  us. 
Visions  of  tumbling  waves,  and  grinning,  gaping  sharks 
rose  before  my  mind ;  but  in  spite  of  these  they  brought 
fresh  fish  next  morning,  a  rare  dish  on  our  table.  How 
pretty  the  stars  shine  here,  with  which  one  feels  a  pecu¬ 
liar  sympathy  in  this  region ;  the  same  that  shone  four 
thousand  years  ago  !  ‘‘  The  bands  of  Orion,”  and  the 

sweet  influence  of  the  Pleiades,”  as  seen  under  this 
Eastern  sky,  tell  one  much  of  good  old  Job,  and  form  a 
cord  of  fellowship  with  him.  How  sublime  and  grand 
his  poetry  seems  along  this  sea,  and  under  the  starry 


156 


SEA-SH  ORE  TRAVEL. 


heavens,  where  he  sings  of  Him  that  sealeth  up  the 
stars,  which  alone  spreadeth  out  the  heavens,  and  tread-- 
eth  upon  the  waves  of  the  sea  ” !  Job  9  :  7-8.  These 
stars  become  links  that  bind  one  to  the  past,  and  make 
home  and  friends  seem  nearer.  Often  the  thought  that 
in  six  or  eight  hours  my  friends  at  home  could  see  the 
same  stars,  apparently  diminished  the  sense  of  distance 
between  us. 

The  next  morning  the  Bedouins  watered  the  camels  at 
a  neighboring  well.  They  drew  up  the  brackish  water 
with  cords  tied  to  the  corners  of  goat  skins,  and  watered 
them  out  of  their  kneading  basins.  Looking  down  into 
the  well,  I  unexpectedly  got  a  glimpse  of  my  unshaven 
face,  so  fierce  and  bushy  with  hair  as  almost  to  frighten 
me  at  my  own  image. 

The  next  day  we  travelled  on  the  sea-coast,  hunting 
shells  and  coral,  as  the  rest  jogged  wearily  along.  For 
a  few  days  my  companion  had  been  suffering  with  ner¬ 
vous  weakness ;  the  intense  heat  and  the  tiresome  motion 
of  the  camel  aggravated  the  attack.  I  was  compelled  to 
conceal  my  fears.  Every  night  I  was  fearful  that  the 
next  morning  would  find  him  too  weak  to  travel.  I  felt 
7inexpectedly  relieved  when  I  found  him  able  to  mount 
his  kneeling  camel,  on  the  day  we  hoped  to  reach 
Akaba.  The  mountains  blocking  up  our  passage  along 
the  sea,  compelled  us  to  turn  into  the  valleys  again. 
Again  we  had  to  cross  a  very  steep  and  rugged  pass. 
We  dismounted  to  escape  the  slips  and  danger  of  the 
camels,  which  crept  and  clambered  up  the  crooked  zigzag 
path  in  single  file.  One  would  hardly  believe  how  dex¬ 
terously  these  animals  climb  mountains.  They  step  from 
rock  to  rock,  with  their  heavy  burdens,  their  soft  feet 
holding  ‘  to  the  smooth  surface,  like  a  cat,  picking  their 


A  TURKISH  GOVERNOR. 


15T 


path  with  wonderful  prudence  and  precision.  Early  in 
the  afternoon  we  discovered  a  black  line  along  the  upper 
extremity  of  the  gulf,  which  we  hailed  as  the  palm  grove 
that  encircles  Akaba.  As  our  patience,  like  our  bodies, 
had  been  considerably  fatigued,  the  distance  seemed 
inconceivably  great.  Hour  after  hour  we  rode  along 
the  shell-strewn  beach,  and  still  it  seemed  far  off.  At  5 
p.  M.  we  reached  the  beginning  of  the  grove,  and  en¬ 
camped  near  the  village.  The  Bedouins  embraced  and 
kissed  their  friends  with  their  usual  gravity.  Ahmed 
met  a  female  acquaintance,  whom  he  saluted  with  open 
arms  and  a  smack  of  the  lip.  I  took  this  as  rather 
a  tender  salutation  for  a  man  who  tells  me  he  loves 
his  wife  too  tenderly  to  have  a  second  one.  Soon  after 
this  woman  set  up  a  fearful  racket  about  selling  her 
chickens,  to  his  great  annoyance,  when  he  pronounced 
her  ‘‘an  ugly  thing.”  A  man  of  bronze  complexion, 
dressed  in  a  long  scarlet  robe,  with  a  sash  and  fez, 
or  red  cap,  and  a  few  attendants,  approached  our  tents 
soon  after  our  arrival.  He  and  his  retinue  soon  found 
seats  on  the  ground,  lit  his  pipe,  and  opened  a  conver¬ 
sation  with  Ahmed,  with  an  air  of  considerable  import¬ 
ance.  They  interspersed  their  rapid  speeches  by  cour¬ 
teously  touching  the  lip  and  forehead  with  the  hand. 
Occasionally  his  excellency  would  give  Ahmed  a  few 
whiffs  from  his  pipe,  followed  by  complimentary  touches. 
Upon  inquiry  we  found  that  this  swaggering  personage 
was  dignified  with  the  title  of  “Governor  of  Akaba.” 
By  this  time  the  whole  village  had  emptied  its  contents 
upon  us  in  great  confusion.  Men  brought  sheep,  women 
and  children  couched  around  us  in  a  circle,  with  water, 
chickens,  salad,  milk,  fish,  and  fresh  bread.  Aye,  fresh 
bread  ;  coarse  and  ill-baked  as  it  was,  it  proved  a  luxury 
14 


158 


EZION-GEBER. 


we  had  not  indulged  in  for  weeks.  Ahmed  bought  a 
sheep  for  seven  dollars  and  a  half,  which  in  a  very  short 
time  Mohammed  had  strung  skinless  to  a  tree.  The 
sweet  fresh  water  we  got  soon  made  us  forget  our  trials 
of  thirst  on  the  way.  I  felt  too  tired  to  eat,  and  Mr. 
M.  was  still  worse.  In  the  evening  the  governor  repeated 
his  visit  while  Ahmed  was  eating  his  dinner.  He  at  once 
set  to  without  let  or  hindrance,  and  helped  himself  as  an 
unhidden  guest.  I  afterwards  found  him  couching  aside 
the  cook’s  wooden  bowl,  tearing  away  at  a  tough  piece 
of  turkey  with  his  hands  and  teeth.  After  he  had  left, 
Ahmed  complained  of  “the  rude  fellow,”  for  thrusting 
himself  on  him  and  feeding  on  his  fare. 

Akaba,  the  Ezion-Geber  of  the  Bible,  is  an  insignifi¬ 
cant,  dreary  little  village,  nestled  among  a  beautiful 
palm-grove,  at  the  north  end  of  the  Gulf  of  Akaba.  It 
comprises  a  fortress  built  for  the  protection  of  the  Mecca 
pilgrimage,  and  a  few  filthy  Arab  huts  around  it,  built 
of  stone  with  roofs  of  palm  branches.  Numerous  ra¬ 
vines,  gullies,  and  earth  heaps  cover  the  surface  around 
it.  These  slope  and  recede  up  towards  the  naked,  rough 
mountains  in  the  rear.  The  chief  man  of  the  village  is 
our  self-invited  guest,  the  governor,  who  has  a  small 
posse  of  Turkish  soldiers  under  him,  all  of  whom  are 
appointed  by  the  Sultan.  To  avoid  being  robbed  by 
them,  we  employed  a  few  as  guards. 

Though  a  wretched  hamlet  now,  Ezion-Geber  was  an 
important  port  in  the  days  of  Solomon.  “  King  Solo¬ 
mon  made  a  navy  of  ships  in  Ezion-Geber,  which  is  be 
side  Eloth,  on  the  shore  of  the  Red  Sea,  in  the  land  of 
Edom.”  1  Kings  9  :  26.  “  Jehoshaphat  made  ships  of 

Tharshish  to  go  to  Ophir  for  gold :  but  they  went  not : 
for  the  ships  were  broken  at  Ezion-Geber.”  1  Kings  22 : 


FORMER  IMPORTANCE  OF  AKABA.  159 

48.  And  long  before  this,  the  Hebrews  “  encamped  at 
Ezion-Geber,”  on  their  way  to  Canaan.  Num.  33  :  35. 

These  two  gulfs,  the  Gulf  of  Suez  and  the  Gulf  of 
Akaba,  form  the  fork  comprising  the  Peninsula  of  Sinai. 
In  the  prosperous  period  of  the  Jewish  kingdom,  the 
Gulf  of  Akaba  was  the  grand  highway  of  communica¬ 
tion  between  Canaan  and  India,  the  thoroughfare  of  the 
fleets  of  Solomon  and  Jehoshaphat.  But  the  proud  fleets 
in  which  the  treasures  of  Judea  and  the  gold  of  Ophir 
were  borne,  have  all  vanished.  Only  once  a  year  a  few 
vessels  sail  around  from  Suez  to  Akaba  with  provisions 
for  the  Mecca  pilgrimage.  When  these  are  gone,  there 
is  neither  ship  nor  skiff  to  be  seen  on  the  gulf;  only 
the  small  palm-raft  of  an  occasional  Arab  fisherman. 
All  the  afiluent  trade  between  India  and  Europe  now 
passes  over  the  Gulf  of  Suez,  which,  during  the  Hebrew 
monarchy,  was  as  much  deserted  as  the  Gulf  of  Akaba 
now  is.  Thus,  like  the  flow  and  ebb  of  their  tide,  the 
two  great  lines  of  India  trafiic  have  alternately  passed 
up  the  eastern  and  the  western  gulf. 

It  would  be  interesting  to  study  the  bearing  these  two 
links  of  social  and  commercial  communication  between 
the  East  and  West  have  had,  and  still  may  have,  on  the 
history  of  the  world.  The  relation  which  India  is  as¬ 
suming  to  the  Western  nations,  promises  to  be  of  im¬ 
mense  importance.  What  momentous  results  for  modern 
civilization  may  yet  flow  from  the  mutual  intercourse 
thus  carried  on  over  the  Gulf  of  Suez  !  The  service 
which  it  rendered  the  Church  in  slaying  her  enemies, 
may  be  the  type  of  another  great  mission  it  is  to  perform 
in  the  future  history  of  Christ’s  kingdom. 

Down  into  the  corner  of  these  two  gulfs  runs  the  wil- 
ncrness  of  Sinai,  reaching  its  climax  in  Mount  Sinai. 


160 


THE  HISTORY  OF  SINAI. 


From  any  of  its  higher  mountains,  one  or  both  of  them 
can  he  seen.  The  learned  Chevalier  Bunsen  says  that 
“Egypt  has,  properly  speaking,  no  history.  History 
was  born  on  that  night  when  Moses  led  forth  his  people 
from  Goshen.”  Coming  from  Egypt  through  the  desert 
of  Arabia,  one  feels  the  force  of  this  remark.  You  never 
tire  admiring  the  tombs,  monuments,  and  Pyramids  of 
the  Pharaohs  of  Egypt ;  hut  their  inscriptions,  even 
■when  deciphered,  fail  to  give  that  evolution  of  events 
which  constitutes  history.  The  number  of  kings  and 
slaves,  of  possessions,  sacrifices,  and  religions,  in  the 
abstract,  are  not  history.  But  as  soon  as  you  get  to  the 
Bed  Sea,  you  are  struck  wdth  the  development  of  events 
which,  from  these  on,  follow  in  living  succession,  as  if 
bound  together  by  one  vital  thread.  The  Exodus  is  the 
only  historic  tide  which  has  ever  rolled  across  the  wilder¬ 
ness.  Here  they  found  Amalek,  fought,  and  discomfited 
him ;  and  here  are  those  like  him  to  this  day.  It  would 
seem  that,  with  real  Bedouin  cunning,  he  took  advantage 
of  the  drooping,  famishing  condition  of  the  Hebrews, — • 
attacked  the  faint  and  exhausted  in  the  rear ;  “  smote 
the  hindmost  of  thee,  even  all  that  were  feeble  behind 
thee,  when  thou  wast  faint  and  weary.”  Deut.  25  :  18. 
Those  forty  years  of  wandering  are  all  the  history  we 
have  of  Sinai.  Of  the  people  and  tribes  that  have  lived, 
fought,  and  died  here  before  and  since,  the  world  has 
neither  record  nor  history. 

Every  thing  in  the  wilderness  is  seen  in  the  light  of 
this  great  event.  The  black- veiled  Bedouin  women, 
leading  their  goats  along  the  mountains,  always  call  up 
images  of  Jethro’s  daughters;  the  primitive  habits  and 
costume  of  the  Bedouin  give  one  a  picture  of  the  pro¬ 
bable  appearance  of  the  Hebrews ;  the  long  lines  of 


THE  TAWARAH  ARABS. 


161 


black  tents  around  the  desert  springs,  present  a  faint 
image  of  the  vast  encampment  gathered  round  the  one 
sacred  tent,  with  its  coverings  of  dyed  skins.  Where 
did  they  bury  their  dead  ?  Like  the  few  nameless  stones 
around  the  tomh  of  Sheikh  Saleh,  so  Hebrew  graves 
may  have  clustered  around  their  encampments. 

The  population  of  the  Peninsula  is  estimated  at  about 
4000.  The  southern  half  belongs  to  the  Tawarah  Arabs. 
These  are  divided  into  a  number  of  smaller  tribes  or 
clans.  Some  of  them  are  as  vigilant  of  their  pedigree  as 
the  Hebrews,  even  forbidding  intermarriages.  They  are 
said  to  be  the  poorest  of  the  Bedouin  tribes.  No  grain 
is  raised  in  the  whole  region.  Their  pasturage  is  ex¬ 
ceedingly  meagre.  Their  flocks  consist  chiefly  of  goats, 
and  not  many  of  these.  Sheep,  asses,  cattle,  horses, 
are  not  found  here,  only  camels  and  goats.  These  fur¬ 
nish  them  with  milk  and  meat,  and  that  very  sparingly. 
They  make  small  quantities  of  charcoal  from  their  little 
wood,  and  gather  a  few  dates  from  the  palm-trees  at 
Feiran  for  the  market.  They  hire  their  camels  to  trans¬ 
port  goods  and  coal  between  Cairo  and  Suez.  In  this 
respect  they  are  like  their  ancient  brethren,  the  com¬ 
pany  of  Ishmaelites  with  their  camels”  and  burdens, 
who  bought  Joseph  and  took  him  along  to  Egypt.  Gen. 
37  ;  25.  These,  together  with  their  occasional  earnings 
for  carrying  travellers  through  the  wilderness,  furnish 
the  trifling  sum  with  which  they  buy  their  grain  and 
clothing  at  Cairo  for  the  whole  tribe.  Their  camels  are 
small  and  very  poor,  owing  to  their  scanty  pasture ;  and 
when  the  rains  fail,  the  camels  die,  and  the  poor  Arab 
must  starve  or  seek  refuge  with  others.  And  an  army 
or  nation,  but  one-tenth  as  numerous  as  the  Hebrews, 
travelling  through  this  wilderness  of  Arabia  now,  would 
11*  L 


1 


162  PHILOSOPHY  OF  POVERTY. 

either  have  to  bring  their  food  and  water  along  from  Egypt, 
or  receive  manna  from  heaven,  and  water  from  the  smitten 
rock,  or  starve,-  After  you  leave  Egypt,  no  grain  can  be 
grown ;  and  after  you  leave  Suez,  none  can  be  bought. 

We  know  how  the  Hebrews  were  furnished  with  the 
manna”  for  their  own  use,  but  they  had  ‘‘flocks  and 
herds,  even  very  much  cattle.”  Ex.  12  :  38.  How  were 
these  fed  ?  Nothing  short  of  a  constant  miracle  could 
take  these  through  the  wilderness  as  we  now  find  it.  We 
read  of  no  miracle  performed  for  the  sustenance  of  “the 
herds.”  At  least  thirty-eight  of  the  forty  years  were 
spent  in  the  broad  northern  wadys  of  the  wilderness, 
where  they  led  a  Bedouin  life,  perhaps  leading  their 
flocks  over  a  large  district.  Here  there  is  some  green 
brushwood,  and  a  little  more  herbage  than  farther  south. 
But  where  did  they  get  feed  for  all  their  cattle  during 
the  two  years’  wandering  around  Rephidim,  Horeb,  and 
Hazeroth  ?  Certainly  there  must  have  been  more  vege¬ 
tation  there  than  now  —  a  supposition  not  improbable  or 
unnatural.  The  geology  of  many  countries  has  under¬ 
gone  greater  changes  than  this  theory  would  require,  in 
less  than  3000  years. 

These  Bedouins  seem  happy  and  contented  in  spite 
of  their  poverty.  Philosophers  have  often  remarked 
that  we  increase  our  happiness  in  proportion  as  we 
reduce  our  wants.  Though  few  practise  this  princi¬ 
ple  from  choice,  those  who  do  it  from  necessity  are 
often  the  better  for  it.  If  this  remark  be  true,  these 
swarthy  children  of  the  Desert  ought  to  enjoy  life  in  a 
very  high  degree.  They  are  free  from  sinful  luxuries. 
They  eat  and  wear  but  little.  Ground  unboiled  barley, 
unleavened  and  unlarded,  mixed  and  kneaded  with  water, 
makes  their  daily  bread ;  seldom  anything  else,  and  very 


I 


THE  AVENGER  OF  BLOOD.  163 

little  of  this.  The  women  wrap  themselves,  head,  face, 
and  all,  in  a  blue  cotton  cloth,  black  with  filth  ;  the  men 
wear  sandals  of  the  dried  skin  of  a  fish  from  the  Red 
Sea,  a  sleeveless  slip  nearly  equivalent  to  a  man’s  shirt, 
with  a  belt,  turban,  and  a  coarse  blanket  for  the  cool 
nights.  They  live  in  happy  ignorance  of  the  refinements 
of  civilized  lift.  Their  houses  being  unencumbered  with 
floors,  carpets,  or  even  beds,  without  chairs,  tables,  or 
cupboards,  their  washing,  mending,  and  scouring  gives 
them  little  trouble.  Their  lungs  are  not  crammed  with 
close  unventilated  air  in  their  open  tents,  nor  their  sto¬ 
machs  with  barbarous  loads  of  unmanageable  dishes. 
I  heard  of  no  dyspepsia  or  corns.  The  construction  of 
their  dwellings  and  garments  is  such  as  not  to  shut  out 
God’s  cheering  sunlight,  and  the  pure  air  of  life.  One 
coming  from  among  the  artificial  and  fictitious  wants  of 
Europe  and  America,  sees  much  in  the  simple,  contented 
life  of  the  Bedouin,  to  put  civilization  to  the  blush. 

They  are  reputed  as  strictly  honest  among  themselves. 
It  is  said  if  an  Arab’s  camel  dies  on  the  road,  and  he 
cannot  remove  the  load,  he  only  scratches  a  circle  around 
it  in  the  sand,  and  no  one  will  touch  it  for  months.  To¬ 
ward  strangers  they  are  not  always  so  strictly  just. 
The  sheikh  or  chief  of  the  tribe  is  the  judge  in  the  set¬ 
tlement  of  all  disputes,  after  the  style  of  the  ancient 
patriarchs.  If  an  Arab  is  murdered,  it  will  be  the  duty 
of  his  nearest  relative  to  avenge  his  blood,  by  killing  the 
murderer  or  his  nearest  kin.  He  will  pursue  him  from 
tribe  to  tribe  for  long  years,  never  resting  in  peace  while 
the  unavenged  blood  of  his  kinsman  cries  from  the 
ground.  Moses  had  to  oppose  and  guard  against  the 
cruelty  of  this  law,  ty  appointing  cities  of  refuge,  which, 
however,  the  Bedouins  have  not.  Num.  35  :  19.  We 


164  IGNOEANCE  OF  THE  BEDOUINS. 


found  them  uniformly  trustworthy.  After  all  the  pack¬ 
ings  and  unpackings  of  our  goods,  I  do  not  remember  a 
single  article  to  have  been  stolen.  It  is  said  if  you  eat 
bread  with  a  Bedouin  in  his  tent,  he  will  give  his  life  in 
your  defence.  From  my  experience  I  have  no  reason  to 
doubt  this  remark.  They  are  most  inveterate  beggars, 
and  extremely  fond  of  money,  for  which  their  poverty, 
however,  is  a  partial  excuse.  They  are  always  on  the 
alert  for  bucksheesh  (a  present).  If  you  drop  your  cane 
or  cloak,  or  sometimes  only  look  at  them  pleasantly, 
they  will  put  the  everlasting  bucksheesh  at  you.  When 
we  approached  Sinai,  and  wherever  a  set  saw  that  we 
were  approaching  a  place  where  their  services  would  end, 
their  clamoring  duns  left  us  no  peace. 

It  is  said  that  not  one  of  the  T^warah  Arabs,  not  even 
their  Sheikh,  can  read  or  write.  And  other  tribes  seem 
little  better.  Sheikh  Hussein,  of  the  Alouin  tribe,  pos¬ 
sessing  immense  wealth,  can  neither  read  nor  write  his 
name.  They  all  profess  the  Mohammedan  faith,  but  it 
sits  very  loosely  upon  them.  I  never  saw  one  of  them 
pray.  They  have  no  one  to  read  the  Koran  for  them. 
Their  faith  resembles  that  in  Abrahamic  times.  They 
believe  in  God,  who  made  the  heavens^and  the  earth. 
He  dwells  in  heaven,  and  from  him  they  expect  and 
receive  all  good.  All  misfortune  they  likewise  ascribe  to 
Him.  In  their  darkest  calamities  and  trials  they  say : 
“Allah  (God)  hath  sent  it,  therefore  it  must  be  good.” 
With  all  this  apparent  reverence  for  Allah,  they  are  shock¬ 
ingly  profane.  In  almost  every  other  sentence  you  hear 
the  “Wallah,”  (by  God,)  sometimes  even  in  reply  to  the 
remark  of  another  one.  Sometimes  Ahmed  would  turn 
away  to  us  with  horror,  saying :  “  These  are  ugly  men, 
they  swear  to  almost  every  word.” 


THE  BEDOUIN  AND  HIS  CAMEL. 


165 


They  are  of  an  intensely  excitable  temperament,  full 
of  fire.  Sometimes  an  ordinary  conversation  arouses 
them  to  loud  vociferations  and  violent  gesticulations, 
as  if  they  were  ready  to  devour  one  another.  They  are 
the  true  children  of  their  ancient  father,  Ishmael,  of 
whom  the  Lord  said  :  “  He  will  he  a  wild  man  ;  his  hand 
will  be  against  every  man,  and  every  man’s  hand  against 
him.”  Gen.  16  :  12.  True  to  their  friends,  they  plunder 
and  rob  the  stranger,  and  are  almost  constantly  warring 
with  neighboring  tribes. 

The  Bedouin  lives  on  the  kindest  and  most  familiar 
terms  with  his  camel.  And  well  he  may,  for  he  earns  his 
money  to  buy  bread  and  brings  it  home  for  him,  his  hair 
is  used  for  clothing,  and  the  dung  for  fuel,  and  his  milk 
for  food.  When  he  has  done  his  life’s  work  the  Bedouin 
eats  his  flesh,  and  sends  the  camel  to  Paradise,  where  he 
hopes  to  live  with  him  after  death.  He  calls  him  The 
Ship  of  the  Desert.”  They  both  eat  and  drink  out  of  the 
same  basin,  sleep  in  a  common  herd,  and  mutually  share 
the  sunshine  and  shade  of  life.  They  are  companions  in 
peace  and  war.  They  are  growling,  croaking  beings.  In¬ 
stead  of  the  most  patient  of  animals,  as  I  fancied  them  to 
be,  there  is  no  end  to  their  grumbling.  Sometimes  a  crush¬ 
ing  burden  gives  them  cause  for  it.  As  the  camel  must 
kneel  to  receive  his  loading,  his  great  effort  to  rise  under 
it  sometimes  sets  every  joint  in  his  body  to  cracking 
But  he  grumbles  when  the  load  is  put  on,  and  when  it  is 
taken  off ;  like  his  master’s  bucksheesh,  a  mere  look  will 
often  provoke  his  petulance.  I  saw  only  one  Arab  beat¬ 
ing  his  camel.  They  treat  their  snarling  complaints 
with  great  forbearance.  I  could  seldom  apply  the  switch 
never  so  slightly,  without  being  rebuked  by  the  watchful 
owner  with  “la,  la!”  (no,  no!)  Nature  has  eminently 


166 


CHARACTER  OF  THE  CAMEL. 


adapted  the  camel  for  this  part  of  the  globe.  He  can  travel 
from  eight  to  ten  days  without  water,  hut  then  he  drinks 
till  his  skin  is  blown  out  to  the  utmost  dimensions. 
When  grass  and  grain  fail  he  eats  thistles  and  the  thorny 
branches  of  the  shittim  tree,  grinding  up  the  wood  with 
a  noise  like  that  of  a  bark-mill.  For  hours  our  Bedouins 
would  sing  after  their  camels  to  ease  their  toil,  promising 
the  reward  of  kindness  on  earth,  and  at  the  end  of  life  a 
home  with  the  Prophet.  I  am  not  sure  but  what  one  of 
mine  had  an  ear  for  music,  for  these  Arab  lullabies  seemed 
to  make  him  put  on  a  marvellously  patient  and  contented 
air.  They  have  their  own  way  of  telling  their  sorrows. 
When  they  cannot  rise  with  their  load,  they  gargle  most 
pitifully.  When  the  back  is  sore  they  throw  themselves 
on  the  ground,  whether  the  load  be  a  lady  or  a  bag  of 

coffee.  One  day  Mrs.  S - was  leisurely  riding  toward 

the  Red  Sea,  when  her  camel,  without  a  groan  of  warn¬ 
ing,  threw  himself  suddenly  on  his  knees  and  her  over 
his  head,  which  was  to  inform  her  that  the  saddle  rubbed 
him.  Such  are  a  few  traits  of  this  friend  of  the  Bedouin. 
I  know  not  whether  his  kindness  towards  the  animal 
springs  from  policy  or  affection,  but  next  to  his  wife  and 
children  his  camel  is  his  first  great  care.  He  hails  the 
advent  of  a  young  one  with  the  words  :  “  To  us  a  child  is 
born.”  His  life  is  precious  as  a  brother’s.  When  a  foe 
maliciously  slays  him,  the  wrath  of  the  avenger  pursues 
him  unto  death. 

Upon  our  arrival  at  Akaba  we  learned,  to  our  regret, 
that  the  intelligence  of  our  messenger  had  been  correct. 
Sheikh  Hussein  was,  no  one  knew  where.  Some  said  he 
was  six,  others  twelve  days’  journey  off.  He  was  pre¬ 
paring  for  war  with  the  Petra  tribe,  and  could  not  be 
seen  b>  travellers.  Hussein  is  the  Sheikh  of  the  very 


AN  ANNOYING  DELAY. 


167 


large  Alouin  tribe,  and  usually  the  only  one  that  can 
transport  travellers  to  Petra  and  directly  to  Hebron. 
Though  his  sordid,  greedy  disposition  has  become  a  ter¬ 
ror  to  travellers,  they  cannot  well  do  without  him.  In  a 
civilized  country,  where  a  man  has  at  least  a  right  to  his 
legs,  if  not  to  cars  and  coaches,  one  can  scarcely  imagine 
what  a  pinching  predicament  such  a  disappointment 
would  cause  in  Arabia.  Here  there  was  no  shouldering 
of  one’s  knapsack  or  hiring  of  a  private  conveyance  to 
the  next  town.  All  the  conveyances,  public  and  private, 
were  Hussein’s  camels,  and  they  had  ceased  running,  and 
the  next  town  was  Hebron,  nearly  a  week  olF.  Here  we 
were  among  hostile  tribes  of  these  wild  Ishmaelites,  in  the 
heart  of  the  inhospitable  desert,  the  road  blockaded  by 
savage  feuds.  True,  we  were  at  the  sea,  but  without  a 
ship  to  take  us.  The  party  which  brought  us  from  Sinai 
were  foes  of  the  Petra  tribe,  and  therefore  could  not  take 
us  through  their  territory.  We  might  return  to  Sinai 
with  them,  but  that  would  not  be  so  pleasant  either. 
There  was  only  one  way  open,  a  circuitous  route  round 
by  Nakel,  which  would  make  our  journey  a  week  longer. 
Feeling  greatly  exhausted,  we  fortunately  concluded  to 
tarry  and  rest  a  few  days  at  Akaba.  This  would  at  the 
same  time  enable  us  to  retain  the  delightful  society  of 
our  London  friends. 

The  next  morning  we  opened  the  sides  of  the  tent  to 
admit  the  refreshing  breeze,  and  threw  off  all  superfluous 
clothing  to  enjoy  it  the  more  freely.  While  I  was  thus 
writing  at  a  cross-legged  table,  without  coat,  vest,  or 
shoes,  Ahmed  came  down  through  the  grove  in  evident 
good  spirits,  with  three  Bedouins,  whom  he  introduced  as 
Sheikh  Hassan  Abou  Baschid,  ‘‘  one  of  the  most  power¬ 
ful  chiefs  of  the  desert,”  and  his  brother  and  nephew. 


168 


A  DESERT  CHIEFTAIN. 


This  sudden  surprise,  and  its  pompous  introduction,  under 
the  circumstances,  threw  me  into  a  ludicrous  embarrass¬ 
ment.  The  Sheikh  took  off  something  between  moccasins 
and  half-boots  outside  of  the  tent,  so  that  I  was  strictly 
in  order  in  bare  feet ;  then  we  shook  hands,  by  touching 
the  palms  of  the  hand  horizontally,  and  interchanged  the 
customary  touches  of  the  face  and  breast.  We  invited 
them  to  a  seat  on  the  camp-stools,  but  his  brother  pre¬ 
ferred  the  mat  on  the  ground.  The  Sheikh  tried  to  acco¬ 
modate  himself  to  his  seat  for  awhile  with  evident  incon¬ 
venience,  and  after  shifting  and  trying  to  sit  in  various 
ways,  he  pushed  the  stool  to  a  side  and  squatted  on  the 
mat.  We  called  for  coffee  and  pipes  ;  the  Sheikh,  however, 
being  an  anti-tobacco  man,  frankly  declared  that  he  felt 
better  without  it.  ,  He  was  a  man  past  middle  life,  of 
medium  height,  slightly  corpulent,  with  a  broad  expanded 
forehead,  an  oval  face,  a  black  piercing  eagle-eye,  a 
sprinkling  of  age  in  his  beard,  and  a  smile  playing  on  his 
cheek.  He  wore  the  usual  Bedouin  apparel.  A  silken 
burnouse  with  red  and  yellow  stripes,  fastened  with  a 
skein  of  yarn  around  the  top  of  the  head ;  a  woollen 
striped  blanket  with  arm-holes  loosely  hung  over  a  dirty 
sleeveless  shirt,  with  a  girdle  and  a  Damascus  sword  at 
his  side,  constituted  his  regal  uniform,  the  same  that  his 
subjects  wore.  His  walk  and  bearing  seemed  like  the 
impersonation  of  gracefulness  and  dignity,  —  a  most  per¬ 
fect  specimen  of  a  bold,  independent  chieftain.  All  the 
while  I  had  to  think  of  Ishmael  and  Esau,  sheikhs  of 
their  respective  tribes,  with  precisely  similar  habits.  No 
amount  of  artificial  culture  could  have  increased  the  un¬ 
assumed  easy  dignity  of  his  manners.  The  object  of  his 
visit  was  simply  this  :  A  few  days  before  he  received  word 
that  no  travellers  had  been  able  to  visit  Petra  this  spring, 


ARABS  BARGAINING. 


169 


on  account  of  Hussein’s  absence.  Rascbid  being,  as  be 
said,  on  friendly  terms  with  the  Petra  tribe,  and  having 
4000  men  at  his  command  to  awe  the  other  tribes  into 
good  behaviour,  at  once  set  out  for  Akaba,  to  offer  his 
services  in  transporting  travellers  over  the  desired  route. 
Of  course  we  at  once  welcomed  him  as  a  Providential 
messenger,  and  immediately  negotiated  for  our  safe 
transport. 

Our  interview  presented  a  picturesque  scene,  blending 
primitive  with  modern  features.  The  Shiekh  and  his  at¬ 
tendants,  with  Ahmed  and  the  other  dragoman,  sat  in  a 

circle  on  the  ground ;  Mr.  M - on  his  Ioav  bed,  and  I 

still  at  the  table,  whiffing  away  most  orientally  in  my 
dishabilles.  The  dragomen  couched  down  before  the 
Shiekh,  pressing  their  hands  and  fingers ;  then,  as  if 
startled,  grasping  the  hand  of  Raschid,  and  speaking 
with  apparent  anxiety  and  great  vehemence.  For  a 
while  the  Sheikh  spoke  with  calmness,  the  very  picture 
of  composure.  Occasionally  he  would  speak  into  their 
ears  with  a  loud  whisper,  then  again  he  started  with  a 
shout  of  bargaining  zeal.  The  contract  was  closed,  and 
a  messenger  sent  for  camels,  which  were  to  arrive  in  four 
days. 

In  the  evening  Raschid  and  his  men,  ten  in  number, 
dined  with  us.  All  the  courses  consisted  of  a  quarter 
of  mutton  in  a  wooden  dish,  able  to  contain  a  peck,  filled 
up  with  rice.  The  Bedouin  is  ignorant  of  that  refine¬ 
ment  of  gluttony  among  civilized  nations,  which  stimu¬ 
lates  appetite  by  inventing  a  great  variety  of  incongruous 
dishes,  and  thus  gorging  oppressed  nature  to  death. 
Some  one  has  quaintly  said  that  ‘‘many  people  dig  their 
graves  with  their  teeth,”  wffiich  is  not  without  truth. 
However,  I  ought  perhaps  to  remark  that  what  the  Be- 
15 


170 


BEDOUIN  FARE. 


douin  lacks  in  variety  he  makes  up  in  quantity,  when  he 
can  get  it ;  for  Ahmed  told  us  that  each  one  ate  as  much 
as  five  ordinary  men.  But,  as  the  entertainment  was 
given  at  his  expense,  he  may  not  have  been  in  a  position 
to  judge  them  fairly.  The  arrival  of  Raschid  had  a 
charming  effect  on  the  health  of  the  camp.  It  dispelled 
fatigue,  braced  the  nerves,  and  put  us  in  good  humor 
with  every  other  annoyance. 


j 


/ 


A  DREARY  GRAVE. 


ITl 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


/rum  tn  |5rtrii  nni 


Four  days  before  our  arrival  at  Akaba,  Rev.  Mr. 
Lunt,  from  Boston,  died  here.  We  had  met  him  in  Cairo, 
and  at  one  time  thought  of  forming  a  party  with  him. 
He  travelled  with  a  young  Scotchman  and  his  tutor. 
The  exertions  which  it  cost  him  to  ascend  Mount  Sinai 
brought  on  the  eastern  fever.  Desirous  of  reaching 
more  comfortable  quarters,  they  brought  him  through 
the  hot,  thirsty  desert  to  Akaba,  on  a  camel,  which 
greatly  aggravated  his  disease.  Here  he  lingered  a  few 
days,  the  faithful  Scotchman  nursing  him  as  best  he 
could.  Just  before  he  died,  he  pressed  the  hand  of  his 
friend  and  begged  him  not  to  desert  him,  as  he  would 
die  soon.  They  could  get  no  shroud,  not  even  a  rough 
board-box  to  give  him  a  decent  burial.  His  comrades 
rolled  him  in  his  mattrass,  and  buried  him  on  a  small  hill, 
back  of  the  village.  We  visited  his  grave  one  afternoon, 
and  found  the  spot  excessively  dreary.  He  lies  buried 
alone,  and  will  remain  so;  for  the  Mohammedans  bury 
not  their  dead  with  persons  of  another  faith.  No  tree 
nor  blade  of  grass  marked  the  spot,  not  even  his  name ; 
only  a  heap  of  stones  thrown  over  him  to  protect  his 
body  against  hungry  dogs  and  hyenas.  It  was  indeed  a 
ead  sight  to  leave  one  with  whom  we  had  socially  mingled 


172 


CHARMING  SUNSETS. 


but  a  month  before,  in  the  sterile,  parched  region  of 
death,  where  not  a  shrub  or  blade  of  grass  grows  round 
his  tomb,  and  where  the  very  spot  will,  perhaps,  be  lost 
forever  in  a  few  months.  A  stranger,  to  be  ill  and  die 
in  such  a  land,  a  week  from  the  nearest  town,  without 
sympathy  or  medical  aid ;  with  fevery  visions  of  a  loving 
wife  and  family  around  him,  while  the  burning  disease  is 
fast  consuming  him,  and  at  last  to  be  left,  even  dead,  in 
this  dreary  land,  from  which  the  feuds  and  quarrels  of 
Bedouin  tribes  may  at  any  time  exclude  the  visit  of  affec¬ 
tion  ;  this,  in  truth,  seems  a  melancholy  fate.  Never 
did  I  feel,  as  I  there  felt,  the  force  of  Jacob’s  request: 
“Bury  me  with  my  fathers.”  Gen.  49  :  29.  After  my 
return  home,  I  wrote  to  a  friend  in  Boston,  giving  him  a 
description  of  the  circumstances  of  his  death  and  burial. 
He  informs  me  that  he  communicated  it  to  his  sorrowing 
widow,  who  derived  a  melancholy  pleasure  from  hearing 
of  one  who  had  seen  the  place  where  he  was  laid.  Two 
years  before,  an  English  minister  from  Liverpool  died 
in  Wady  Feirdn,  whose  widowed  wife  had  to  see  him 
buried  alone  near  a  heap  of  sand,  where  there  was  nc 
tree,  flower,  nor  stone,  to  mark  his  grave. 

Beautiful  and  glorious  were  the  sunsets,  as  seen  from 
among  these  lofty  palms.  The  sky  was^ flooded  with  an 
orange  hue,  which  softly  melted  into  rose-tints  as  it 
waved  away  into  twilight.  Then  came  an  after-sunset, 
darting  new  rays  of  glory  into  the  heavens.  The  cres¬ 
cent  of  the  young  moon  appeared  hanging  above  the 
horizon,  with  Venus  suspended  over  her,  and  following 
in  her  track.  The  shade,  air,  and  sea-bathing,  which  we 
enjoyed  here,  was  a  grateful  luxury  after  our  previous 
adventures.  Akaba  combines  the  advantages  of  land 
and  sea,  without  many  of  their  anno^^ances.  The 


DEVOUT  TURKS. 


173 


swarms  of  flies  which  pestered  us,  could  be  borne  with  a 
little  efibrt,  and  the  thievish,  famishing  dogs,  which 
prowled  around  our  tents,  were  endurable  so  long  as  they 
kept  from  our  persons.  The  excellent  fresh  flsh  which 
daily  graced  our  table,  were  quite  a  dainty.  Some  of 
them  were  of  a  red  color,  whose  blood  seemed  to  shine 
through  their  fins.  Flocks  of  smaller  ones,  like  finny 
birds,  flew  over  the  surface,  sometimes  skipping  a  rod 
without  touching  the  water,  to  escape  the  hungry  tribe 
of  their  larger  pursuers.  The  few  Turks  at  Akaba 
strictly  practise  the  rites  of  their  religion.  In  the  morn¬ 
ing  before  day,  we  heard  them  saying  their  prayers 
around  the  tent.  Wherever  the  hour  of  prayer  found 
them,  they  would  spread  a  piece  of  garment  on  the 
ground,  and  perform  their  genuflexions  and  devotions 
with  the  same  oflf-hand,  matter-of-course  air,  as  they 
would  smoke  a  pipe  or  eat  bread. 

One  morning  I  walked  round  to  Ahmed’s  tent,  and 
found  that  he  was  again  entertaining  his  noble  guest 
around  the  large  wooden  dish.  They  were  sitting  on 
the  ground,  where  nature  took  the  place  of  knives, 
forks,  and  spoons.  I  could  easily  understand  how  they 
managed  the  rice,  for  they  twisted  their  finger-ends  into  a 
spoon  and  pawed  into  it  with  manifest  relish.  But  the 
dncarved  mutton  was  not  so  easily  disposed  of.  With  the 
help  of  a  short  sword  a  slice  was  started,  and  then 
stripped  down  with  the  hands.  Courtesy  should  have 
prompted  us  to  eat  with  them  out  of  the  same  dish,  but 
a  man’s  education  is  often  a  very  stubborn  thing.  One 
finds  no  little  difficulty  to  engage  in  such  a  hand-to-hand 
ceremony,  over  a  common  dish  of  pilau,  in  which  persons 
figure  who  are  alive  with  all  manner  of  creeping  things 
not  invited  to  the  feast.  They  washed  their  hands 
15* 


174 


A  BEDOUIN  SHYLOCK. 


before  and  after  the  meal,  by  the  way  an  important 
matter  when  so  many  hands  meet  on  the  same  plate. 
This  ancient  and  reasonable  custom  the  Pharisees  mag¬ 
nified  into  a  command,  who,  “  except  they  wash  their 
hands  oft,  eat  not.”  Mark  7  :  2-4.  I  noticed  that  Ras- 
chid’s  servant  poured  the  water  on  his  hands  while  he 
washed  them — an  office  coming  from  ancient  times.  ‘‘And 
one  of  the  King  of  Israel’s  servants  answered  and  said, 
Here  is  Elisha,  the  son  of  Shaphat,  which  poured  water 
on  the  hands  of  Elijah.''  2  Kings  3  :  11. 

While  waiting  for  our  camels,  two  new  parties  arrived. 
On  the  last  night  at  Akaba,  the  two  Raschids  and  all  the 
dragomen  met  in  our  tent  to  draw  up  a  formal  agree¬ 
ment.  At  first,  the  Shiekh  spoke  of  twelve  dollars  per 
camel  from  here  to  Hebron.  At  this  rate,  Ahmed  en¬ 
gaged  eight  for  myself  and  Mr.  M - .  But  this  even¬ 

ing  he  demanded  fourteen  dollars  apiece ;  then  demanded 
fourteen  dollars  for  an  extra  camel  for  his  own  use,  and 
finally  put  on  five  dollars  extra  for  going  to  Petra.  He 
was  our  only  chance,  and  he  knew  that  we  felt  it.  We 
submitted  to  all  his  exacting  efforts,  until  he  demanded 
ten  dollars  bucksheesh  for  signing  the  article  of  agree¬ 
ment.  He  would  hear  of  nothing  else  until  the  ladies 
interposed,  of  whom  we  now  had  two  in  the  camp.  The 
Bedouins  look  upon  the  fair-skinned,  unveiled  females  of 
the  West  with  a  reverence  almost  bordering  on  super¬ 
stition.  They  told  him  that  in  our  nation  the  custom 
was  to  reward  with  presents  the  performance  of  a  good 
act,  but  not  its  promise.  Finally,  the  scribe  of  the  vil¬ 
lage  was  sent  for  to  write  the  agreement.  This  class 
still  exists  as  a  profession  in  the  East.  He  brought  his 
reed-pen  and  inkhorn  stuck  in  his  girdle,  and  wrote  with 
the  paper  on  the  palm  of  his  left  hand,  instead  of  laying 


j 


THE  ORIENTAL  SCRIBE. 


175 


it  on  a  table  or  desk.  Where  but  few  persons  can  write, 
and  where  even  many  of  the  books  have  to  be  written 
off  by  hand,  there  is  a  great  demand  for  these  scribes  or 
writers.  In  Ezek.  9  a  writer  is  mentioned  with  his  ink- 
horn  by  his  side  (or  upon  his  loins),  just  as  these  have 
them.  The  scribes,  in  our  Saviour’s  time,  were  the  tran¬ 
scribers  and  explainers  of  the  law;  and  where  there  were 
no  printing  presses,  there  must  have  been  much  work  for 
these  men.  For  his  short  task,  he  demanded  five  dollars, 
but  finally  reduced  his  fee  to  the  usual  amount  of  twenty- 
five  cents.  Raschid,  thinking,  perhaps,  that  he  had  car¬ 
ried  his  attempted  extortions  far  enough,  took  oif  the 
ring  from  his  finger,  put  a  little  ink  on  it,  and  pressed 
the  seal  of  it  on  the  paper,  which  is  still  the  general 
mode  of  signing  a  contract  in  the  East.  The  Jews  who 
made  a  covenant  in  the  days  of  Nehemiah,  put  their 
‘‘seal  unto  it.”  Neh.  9  :  38.  And  in  the  days  of 
Esther  the  Queen,  the  scribes  of  King  Ahasuerus  wrote 
letters  to  the  governors  of  his  provinces,  “  and  sealed 
them  with  the  king's  ring*"  Esther  3  :  12.  In  most 
Eastern  countries,  every  one  that  can  afford  it  has  a  seal¬ 
ring  on  his  little  finger,  which  is  used  to  sign  letters, 
contracts,  etc.,  whose  impression  is  considered  more 
sacred  than  the  written  signature  of  the  person.  The 
strongest  expression  of  confidence  in  another,  is  to  pull 
off  this  ring  and  put  it  on  his  hand,  as  Pharaoh  did  to 
Joseph.  Gen.  41  :  42.  Our  agreement  with  Raschid 
would,  of  course,  have  been  worthless,  if  he  had  seen 
fit  to  violate  it.  These  Bedouin  kings  are  not  amenable 
to  any  tribunal.  When  all  is  over,  one’s  only  hope  is 
their  native  honesty. 

Our  Sinai- Arabs,  and  their  sheikh,  or  captain  of  their 
party,  left  Akaba  the  same  day  we  did.  They  were  a 


176 


TROUBLESOME  CAMELS. 


kind-hearted,  faithful  set  of  fellows,  and  of  course  asked 
for  bucksheesh .  After  distributing  gifts,  we  passed  through 
the  solemn  ceremony  of  parting  ;  they  turning  their  faces 
toward  their  bleak  mountain  home,  and  we  ours  toward 
Canaan.  It  was  on  a  beautiful  Sabbath.  We  had  spent 
the  former  part  of  the  day  in  singing  our  favorite  Desert 
hymns — “  Come,  thou  fount  of  every  blessing,”  “  Guide 
me,  0  thou  great  Jehovah,”  and  Upward  I  lift  mine 
eyes,”  together  with  other  devotional  ser vices. . 

Ahmed  and  the  Sheikh  insisted  on  our  decamping  in 
the  afternoon.  We  remonstrated,  hut  finally  had  to 
yield.  Raschid’s  men  were  awkward,  and  the  camels 
wild  and  untrained.  Ahmed’s  ran  away  from  him.  Bags 
and  bottles  fiew  in  a}!  directions ;  and  the  blankets,  flap¬ 
ping  on  the  poor  beast,  increased  his  fright,  and  gave  him 
the  appearance  of  a  running  ostrich.  This  started  the 
others,  and  threw  the  whole  caravan  into  confusion.  A 
large  one  carried  the  kitchen  in  two  large  chests.  The 
rattling  and  breaking  of  pans  and  plates  sent  him  off 
along  the  line,  and  threatened  to  end  the  matter  more 
seriously  than  it  began.  The  Alouin  Arabs  were  a  stupid 
set,  and  seemed  to  know  little  more  than  their  camels. 
After  a  while  quiet  was  restored,  save  one  large  camel, 
which  was  ungovernable.  The  leader  finally  pierced  his 
nostrils,  and  tied  the  halter  through  it,  which  made  him 
quite  submissive.  It  is  surprising  what  heavy  burdens 
they  bear.  An  ordinary  camel  will  carry  on  his  bended, 
arch-like  back,  from  eight  to  ten  hundred-weight  with 
ease. 

We  encamped  in  sight  of  the  gulf,  and  only  about  two 
miles  from  it.  At  dusk  a  violent  storm  arose.  The  air 
was  thick  with  sand,  and  our  fires  flew  off  in  large  sparks ; 
and  the  tents  reeled  as  if  ready  to  fall  to  pieces  every 


SPEED  OF  THE  CAMEL. 


177 


moment.  One  of  them  was  only  partly  up  when  it  com¬ 
menced.  The  pins  flew  out  as  fast  as  the  Arabs  could 
drive  them  in.  It  continued  to  howl  to  a  late  hour. 
Storms  are  often  unpleasant,  even  when  we  live  in  strong 
dwellings,  but  in  tents  it  is  far  worse.  One  hardly  knows 
whether  to  lodge  in  the  open  air,  or  run  the  risk  of  be¬ 
coming  entangled  among  cords  and  canvass.  You  watch 
the  roof,  ready  for  the  first  puff  of  wind  to  bring  it 
down  on  you.  Out  here,  in  the  houseless  waste,  where 
there  is  neither  tree,  rock,  nor  roof  to  shelter  you,  in  a 
dark,  dreary  night,  you  will  be  able  to  understand  Isaiah’s 
image  of  the  refuge  of  Christ’s  kingdom,  which  shall  “  be 
for  a  covert  from  storm  and  from  rain.”  Isaiah  4  :  6. 

March  ^Oth. — Next  morning  dawned  upon  us  clear  and 
calm.  Raschid  had  remained  at  Akaba  to  bring  out  one 
of  the  remaining  parties.  Several  hours  after  we  had 
started,  we  saw  him  approaching  in  the  distance,  as  fast 
as  his  camel  could  carry  him.  The  fleetness  of  these 
clumsy,  crooked-limbed  animals  is  almost  incredible. 
When  they  amble  leisurely  along,  their  gait  is  endurable ; 
but  at  full  speed,  their  long,  swinging  pace  is  trying  to 
the  most  closely  knit  joints,  and  scarcely  to  be  borne. 
The  Sheikh,  however,  sat  as  firmly  as  if  he  had  been  part 
and  parcel  of  the  camel’s  hump.  He  had  a  gun  slung 
across  his  back,  a  long  sword  at  his  side,  a  burnouse  and 
loose  garments  streaming  in  the  air ;  these,  with  his 
native  brave  look,  gave  him  the  appearance  of  a  genuine 
independent  warrior-chief,  ready  to  defy  all  the  Bedouins 
in  Arabia.  About  encamping  time  he  usually  rode  in 
advance,  planted  his  gun  on  the  ground,  as  Saul  did  his 
spear,  indicating  the  spot  for  his  abode  and  rest  until 
next  morning.  The  rest  would  then  encamp  and  lodge 
around  him.  Raschid  had  no  spear,  but  Hussein  is  said 

M 


178 


A  LARGE  CA  R  AVA  N. 


to  dismount  at  the  head  of  his  caravaus,  and  stick  Lis 
spear  near  his  intended  bed  or  bolster.  1  Sam.  26  :  7. 

By  this  time,  our  four  parties  constituting  the  caravan 
made  quite  a  formidable  appearance.  We  had  about  fifty 
camels,  sometimes  forming  a  line  a  mile  long,  eleven 
travellers,  and  about  fifty  Arabs.  Our  encampment  called 
to  mind  the  large  wandering  families  of  the  Patriarchs, 
living  in  movable  villages.  Our  eleven  tents  were  near 
together,  and  the  camels  kneeling  around  them ;  the 
watch-fires  sent  up  curling  columns  of  smoke,  as  groups 
of  Arabs  sat  around  them,  kneading  their  bread  and 
smoking  pipes. 

Our  new  servants  were  an  inexpert  set.  Raschid  gave 
us  too  few,  and  half  of  these  were  good  for  nothing. 
Some  would  or  could  not  tie  a  cord.  The  order  to  en¬ 
camp  and  decamp  was  always  the  signal  for  a  scene  of 
riotous  confusion.  The  stubborn,  untractable  camels 
made  it  still  worse.  Mohammed  and  Ahmed  would  raise 
the  tent-pole,  and  vainly  call  for  aid  to  fasten  the  cords, 
until  the  baffled  and  enraged  dragoman  flung  about  his 
arms  and  screamed  like  a  man  possessed.  At  night  we 
reclined  promiscuously  around  the  Bedouins’  watch-fire. 

They  never  ceased  wondering  at  our  unveiled,  fair¬ 
skinned  women.  A  little  old  Arab  had  many  questions 
to  ask  of  Mrs.  S.  and  her  home ;  among  others,  whether 
she  had  any  children.  With  an  air  of  assumed  sadness, 
she  replied  no.  The  poor  man  looked  at  her  with  min¬ 
gled  pity  and  distress,  and  said:  ‘‘Allah  is  great.”  To 
be  childless  they  still  consider  a  mark  of  God’s  dis¬ 
pleasure,  and  as  great  a  misfortune  as  that  of  Abraham 
or  Rachel. 

For  the  last  few  days  we  had  been  travelling  through 
the  Arabah,  a  broad  valley,  from  four  to  eight  miles 


MOUNT  SEIR. 


179 


wide,  and  extending  from  tlie  Gulf  of  Akaba  to  the 
Dead  Sea.  Bushes  of  tamarisk  and  desert-grass  were 
found  in  many  places.  Erom  a  distance  the  ground 
seemed  covered, with  luxuriant  vegetation,  which  a  closer 
view  showed  to  be  thinly-scattered  brushwood.  Every 
day  we  started  various  kinds  of  game  —  hares  and  par¬ 
tridges  of  a  very  large  size  ;  and  gazelles,  nearly  as  large 
as  our  American  deer,  perhaps  the  same  as  David’s 
“hart”  panting  for  water  when  pursued  in  the  chase; 
or,  as  some  suppose,  the  roe  of  the  Bible.  Psalm  42  :  1. 

On  the  East,  Mount  Seir,  which  God  gave  “  unto 
Esau  for  a  possession,”  rises  abruptly  out  of  the  plain  to 
the  height  of  two  or  three  thousand  feet.  Deut.  2  :  5. 
In  the  wilderness,  one  cannot  always  be  certain  that  he 
is  on  the  precise  track  of  the  Hebrews ;  they  may  have 
passed  up  this  valley  on  their  way  to  Zin.  Certain  it  is, 
that  after  “Edom  refused  to  give  Israel  a  passage 
through  his  border,”  they  returned  to  Akaba  through 
this  valley.  For  “  they  journeyed  from  Mount  Hor  by 
way  of  the  Bed  Sea,  to  compass  the  land  of  Edom.” 
Num.  21  :  4. 

On  the  second  day,  w^e  encamped  near  a  family  of  the 
Alouin  Arabs,  which  aided  us  to  realize  more  vividly  the 
Hebrew  scene.  A  line  of  black  tents  were  stretched 
along  the  base  of  Mount  Seir.  Their  goat-herds,  don¬ 
keys,  and  a  few  camels  were  grazing  over  the  plain.  In 
the  evening,  boys  and  women  brought  them  to  the  tents 
in  small  flocks.  They  seemed  to  be  the  monarchs  of  all 
they  surveyed.  Their  flocks  quietly  roamed  over  the 
broad  valley,  cropping  and  browsing  to  their  heart’s 
content.  It  was  a  complete  picture  of  a  pastoral  scene 
of  olden  times,  and  as  you  still  find  them  among  the 
nomadic  tribes  of  the  East.  Some  of  the  women  lounged 


180  WOMAN  AMONG  THE  BEDOUINS. 


around  the  cook’s  tent,  watching  his  culinary  operations 
with  amusing  interest.  Many  of  these  men  are  noble 
specimens  of  their  race,  in  form  and  demeanor ;  but  the 
women  are  sadly  wanting  in  both.  They  are  coarse- 
featured,  ugly  by  nature  and  practice.  Their  filthy  gar¬ 
ments,  tatooed  hands  and  faces,  in  short,  their  whole 
exterior,  is  ugliness  incarnate.  Tatooing  consists  in 
painting  blue  lines  on  the  chin  and  forehead,  sometimes 
on  the  back  of  the  hands  and  arms.  Those  who  get 
their  ideas  of  Woman  in  the  Orient  from  the  Old  Testa¬ 
ment,  may  have  heavenly  visions  of  the  sweet  Arab 
damsels,  the  incarnation  of  Purity,  Love,  and  Beauty. 
But  some  of  the  worthiest  females  of  the  Hebrews  were 
afflicted  with  envy  and  jealousy,  and  travelling  through 
it  now,  one’s  ideas  of  womanly  delicacy  are  most  pain¬ 
fully  shocked. 

A  slight  provocation  will  excite  a  savage  cackling, 
which  the  proficiency  of  Xantippe  could  scarcely  equal. 
Here  woman  is  a  bond-slave,  an  appendage  rather  than 
a  companion  of  man,  the  merest  drudge  of  her  lord,  so 
degraded  and  repulsive  in  her  appearance  that  she  seems 
but  a  short  remove  above  the  animals  around  her.  Pro¬ 
perly  speaking,  she  has  no  domestic  sphere  here.  House¬ 
hold  work  she  has  none  —  no  beds  to  make,  no  rooms  to 
sweep,  nor  tables  to  set.  She  puts  her  goat-milk  into  a 
tanned  goat-skin,  hangs  it  to  a  pole,  where  she  swings 
and  jerks  it  into  butter.  She  spreads  the  butter  on  a 
board,  and  ploughs  through  it  with  a  grass  stem  to  fish 
the  hair  out  which  the  skin  left  in.  Unleavened  cakes 
are  easily  baked  in  the  hot  ashes  of  their  camp-fires. 
Even  where  she  does  the  cooking,  her  lord  eats,  and  when 
all  is  done  she  gets  the  crumbs.  The  canvas  of  the  tent 
m  this  region  is  made  of  camel’s  hair.  A  curtain  sepa- 


SHEIKH  HUSSEIN’S  ENTERTAINMENT.  181 

rates  each  one  into  two  apartments,  the  smaller  one  being 
occupied  by  the  wives  and  children,  and  the  larger  one 
by  the  husband.  The  tents  are  of  an  oblong  shape,  with 
an  open  front.  All  tent's,  like  the  tabernacle  of  Moses, 
are  much  longer  than  wide.  Ex.  26.  The  canvas  is 
stretched  over  ropes  fastened  on  four  or  five  upright 
poles.  Strauss  of  Berlin,  in  his  “  Sinai  und  Golgotha,” 
gives  an  interesting  description  of  an  entertainment  which 
Sheikh  Hussein  gave  to  his  party.  “  The  Sheikh  sent  to 
his  fiock,  kept  by  his  oldest  daughter.  A  young  lamb 
was  brought,  killed,  and  prepared.  Meanwhile  his  wife 
in  the  other  apartment  took  fine  meal,  kneaded  it,  and 
made  cakes  upon  the  hearth.  At  the  end  of  two  hours 
the  Sheikh  brought  the  dinner  in  two  wooden  dishes,  the 
one  containing  broth  with  the  tenderest  parts  of  the  lamb, 
and  the  other  the  remaining  pieces.  The  bread  had  to 
serve  as  spoons.  Only  the  Sheikh  ate  with  us.  The  * 
rest  reverently  waited,  scattered  over  the  large  encamp¬ 
ment.  While  eating  we  noticed  a  shaking  of  the  curtain 
between  the  two  apartments,  and  there  saw  the  wife  of 
the  Sheikh  peeping  and  listening  through  a  rent  in  it. 

So  Sarah  listened  behind  ^  the  tent-door  ’  when  Abra¬ 
ham  entertained  the  angels  in  the  plains  of  Marare.  His 
two  children  came  from  time  to  time,  and  with  curious 
wonder  gazed  at  the  strangers,  then  slyly  and  quickly 
retired,  perhaps  to  relate  the  news  to  their  mother.  The 
dinner  over,  each  of  the  rest  received  a  bread-cake  and  a 
small  piece  of  meat,  according  to  their  age  and  rank. 

To  Musa,  his  representative,  the  Sheikh  gave,  after  the 
old  Oriental  right,  at  least  a  double  portion.  Deut.  21 : 17. 

It  was  an  entertainment  precisely  as  Abraham  gave  one 
4000  years  ago.” 

A'pril  Is^.  —  We  continued  in  the  Arabah,  still  abound- 
16 


182  DISTANT  VIEW  OF  MOUNT  HOR. 


ing  with  tamarisk-bushes.  The  Arabs,  most  cruellj^ 
stingy,  brought  no  grain-feed  along  for  the  camels.  They 
had  plenty  of  leaves,  but  these  did  not  suffice  for  their  pre¬ 
sent  work.  Our  journey  to-day  was  but  a  grazing-march. 
Pressed  with  hunger,  they  ran  after  every  green  bush 
along  the  track,  to  the  great  annoyance  of  their  riders. 
To  avoid  these  abrupt  digressions,  I  gave  mine  liberty  to 
crop  branches  for  awhile,  with  the  hope  that  he  then 
would  go  on  his  way  in  peace,  but  it  availed  nothing.  In 
the  afternoon  we  passed  a  small  plot  of  wheat,  the  first 
since  we  had  left  Egypt.  Turning  eastward,  the  bold 
top  of  Mount  Hor  loomed  up  behind  the  neighboring 
mountain-ridge,  giving  us  the  first  view  of  the  ‘‘  Moun¬ 
tain  of  Aaron.”  We  encamped  near  an  isolated  rock, 
with  an  excavated  chamber  on  the  top.  While  tarrying 
here  till  the  next  morning,  on  the  border  of  Seir,  we 
think  of  the  watchful  waiting  of  Dumah  :  ‘‘  He  calleth  to 
me  out  of  Seir,  Watchman,  what  of  the  night ;  what  of 
the  night?  The  watchman  said.  The  morning  cometh, 
and  also  the  night.”  Is.  21  :  11.  Standing  at  the  door 
of  that  elevated  little  rock-house,  Stanley’s  remark  fur¬ 
nishes  a  pleasant  conjecture,  that  this  very  rock  may 
have  been  the  outpost  for  the  sentinel  which  Isaiah  had 
in  his  eye. 

During  the  day  the  camp  was  rife  with  rumors  that 
Raschid  meditated  a  breach  of  the  contract.  We  en¬ 
camped  an  hour  too  soon  for  him,  which  added  fuel  to 
his  mischief.  We  convened  a  council  on  two  rugs  spread 
on  the  sand,  on  which  we  all  sat  in  a  circle,  and  coolly 
summoned  the  Sheikh  to  appear  before  us.  I  expected 
a  Niagara  of  Arab  wrath,  but,  to  my  utter  surprise,  he 
was  gentle  as  a  lamb.  He  told  us  that  last  year  a  kins¬ 
man  of  his  had  killed  the  Sheikh  of  a  Petra  family.  To- 


A  STARTLING  PROPOSITION. 


183 


day  he  met  an  Arab,  who  informed  him  that  the  Petra 
tribe  heard  of  his  coming,  and  were  on  the  alert  to 
avenge  the  blood  of  their  kinsman.  At  Akaba  he  had 
assured  us  that  he  was  at  peace  with  Petra.  I  felt  sorry 
that  my  good  opinion  of  Raschid  should  be  doomed  to 
wane  so  soon.  He  proposed  to  take  us  within  five  hours 
of  Petra  that  evening  yet,  and  then  start  soon  after  mid¬ 
night  the  next  morning,  so  as  to  be  able  to  return  the 
same  day.  The  almost  impassable  mountain  paths,  and 
the  interesting  and  extensive  sights  of  the  place,  would 
have  made  it  too  severe  a  day  for  the  men,  and  still 
more  so  for  the  ladies.  We  appealed  to  the  contract, 
which  allowed  us  two  days  at  Petra ;  told  him  we  had 
come  thousands  of  miles  to  see  Edom  (Petra),  and  to 
Edom  we  would  go.  At  length  he  consented  to  give  us 
two  days,  provided  we  would  give  him  a  written  certifi¬ 
cate  releasing  him  from  all  responsibility,  saying  that  he 
was  willing  to  risk  his  own  life,  but  would  not  be  held 
accountable  for  ours.  But  to  have  granted  his  request, 
might  have  left  us  unprotected  and  without  means  of 
transport  in  this  horrible  waste.  Then  he  proposed  that 
we  should  leave  all  our  luggage  in  the  Arabah,  only  take 
the  camels  we  rode  and  food  enough  until  our  return, 
without  even  a  tent  for  the  ladies  to  lodge  in.  This 
aroused  the  chivalric  spirit  of  the  camp,  which  gave  the 
chief  a  hint  about  the  elevation  of  woman  in  other  parts 
of  the  world.  Finally  he  allowed  us  to  take  a  small 
cooking  tent  along  for  the  ladies,  food  for  three  or  four 
meals,  while  the  tents,  cooks,  and  all  their  machinery, 
were  to  be  left  back.  The  reason  of  his  great  caution 
in  this  respect,  was  to  disencumber  the  caravan  from 
every  impediment  to  a  rapid  retreat.  To  have  a  score 
of  burdened  camels  moving  over  these  craggy  hills  at  a 


184 


THE  OURSES  AGAINST  EDOM. 


snail  s  pace,  would  have  made  us  an  easy  prey  to  our 
foes,  in  the  event  of  an  attack.  Our  determination  to 
proceed  evidently  caused  the  Sheikh  no  little  concern. 
He  at  once  ascended  a  neighboring  hill  to  reconnoitre, 
and  on  his  return  seemed  unusually  serious  and  medita¬ 
tive.  The  Bible  tells  us  that  “  Esau  dwelt  in  Mount 
Seir;  Esau  is  Edom.”  Gen.  36  :  8.  “I  have  given 
Mount  Seir  unto  Esau  for  a  possession.”  Deut.  2  :  5. 

Curse  upon  curse  has  been  denounced  upon  Edom,  for 
not  allowing  Moses  to  lead  the  Hebrews  through  his 
country.  Isaiah  lays  all  the  resources  of  his  poetic 
fancy  under  contribution,  to  describe  his  future  desola¬ 
tion.  One  almost  feels  a  shudder  in  reading  the  pro¬ 
phetic  wrath  of  his  pages.  For  the  Lord  hath  a  sacri¬ 
fice  in  Bozra,  and'  a  great  slaughter  in  the  land  of 
Idumea  (Edom).  The  streams  thereof  shall  be  turned 
into  pitch,  and  the  dust  thereof  into  brimstone,  and  the 
land  thereof  shall  become  burning  pitch.  It  shall  not 
he  quenched  night  nor  day ;  the  smoke  thereof  shall  go 
up  forever :  from  generation  to  generation  it  shall  lie 
■waste ;  none  shall  pass  through  it  forever  and  ever.” 
Isa.  84.  This  curse-ridden  land  we  were  now  approach¬ 
ing.  It  was  a  calm  still  evening,  reminding  one  of  the 
dread  hush  immediately  preceding  a  storm.  The  mystic 
wrath-doom  of  prophecy  that  hung  over  the  fated  coun¬ 
try,  on  the  spot  acquired  a  threatening  exposition  from 
the  experience  of  modern  travellers.  We  felt  the  force 
of  Stanley’s  remarks  most  impressively :  “  It  (Petra)  is 
literally  paved  with  the  good  intentions  of  travellers, 
unfulfilled.  There  was  Mount  Hor,  which  Bobinson  and 
Laborde  in  vain  wished  to  ascend ;  there  the  plain  half¬ 
way,  where  Burckhardt  was  obliged  to  halt  without 
reaching  the  top ;  here  the  temple  which  Irby  and  Man- 


INCITEMENT  TO  ADVENTURE. 


185 


gles  only  saw  through  the  telescope ;  here  the  platform 
from  which  the  Martineau  party  were  unable  to  stir 
without  an  armed  guard ;  and,  lastly,  on  the  very  plain 
of  our  encampment,  at  the  entrance  of  the  pass,  travel¬ 
lers  with  our  own  dragoman  were  driven  back  last  year 
without  even  a  glimpse  of  the  famous  city.”  And  to 
crown  the  list  of  instructive  perils,  a  few  months  before, 
the  only  party  that  had  reached  Petra  this  year,  were 
attacked  by  the  Bedouins,  had  one  of  their  servants 
killed,  and  then  fled,  stopping  neither  day  nor  night 
until  they  reached  Hebron.  And  now  Sheikh  Baschid, 
the  bold  chief  of  a  powerful  tribe,  who,  of  all  others, 
ought  to  feel  safe  and  act  with  intrepid  coolness,  is  ner¬ 
vous  with  fear  and  apprehension,  and  climbs  on  moun¬ 
tain-tops  to  see  whether  Edom  is  not  already  lurking 
around  our  tents  ! 

There  is  a  strange  charm  in  adventure,  which  some¬ 
times  transforms  the  veriest  coward  into  a  hero. 

“  For,  if  a  path  he  dangerous  known, 

The  danger's  self  is  lure  alone." 

It  seems  singular  that  any  one  should  feel  at  ease  when 
he  approaches  a  place  so  pregnant  with  dread  and  dan¬ 
ger ;  and  yet  if  Petra  were  a  peaceful  pastoral  village,  it 
is  doubtful  whether  travellers  w’ould  feel  half  the  eager¬ 
ness  to  visit  the  famous  city.  Our  party  seemed  cheer¬ 
ful  as  usual,  without  the  least  sign  of  fear :  I  doubt 
whether  any,  but  the  Sheikh  perhaps,  lost  a  wink  of  sleep, 
for  which,  however,  we  w^ere  more  indebted  to  our  camels 
than  our  prowess.  Stephens  says  :  “A  man  who  rides  all 
day  upon  a  dromedary  must  sleep,  come  what  may 
even  the  much-dreaded  savages  of  Petra  cannot  drive 
rest  from  his  pillow.  Dogs  may  howl  around  the  tent, 
16 


186 


WARLIKE  PREPARATIONS. 


hyenas  steal  about  in  search  of  dead  men’s  hones,  the 
storm  may  threaten  to  roll  up  your  tabernacle  into  a 
scroll^  and  in  spite  of  all  sleep  brings  a  peaceful  insensi¬ 
bility  to  all,  save  the  pestering,  pinching  fleas.  A  more 
formidable  enemy  to  sleep  is  this  contemptible  vermin 
than  all  the  robbers  and  the  elements  combined. 

April  2d.  —  The  next  morning  we  started  at  o’clock, 
with  fifteen  camels,  and  as  many  Arabs  as  were  not  needed 
to  protect  the  caravan  left  back.  These  with  the  remain¬ 
ing  camels  and  tents,  encamped  toward  the  foot  of  the 
mountain,  and  we  threaded  up  its  winding  ravines  and 
gorges.  Our  whole  stock  of  swords  and  fire-arms  was 
displayed  with  martial  pride.  He  that  had  two  weapons 
gave  one  to  him  that  had  none.  I  had  Ahmed’s  two  five- 
barrelled  revolvers  stuck  in  my  girdle,  unloaded ;  for 
the  great  object  was  to  present  a  formidable  appearance. 
And  these  Bedouins  have  a  superstitious  dread  of  re¬ 
volvers.  All  they  know  about  them  they  get  through 
far-fetched  exaggerated  stories.  It  was  told  to  me,  (I 
cannot  vouch  for  its  truth,)  that  some  have  an  idea  that 
if  you  once  pull  the  trigger  of  a  revolver  the  firing  will 
continue  while  there  is  a  living  Arab  within  reach. 

Baschid  sent  a  scouting-party  of  three  Arabs  ahead, 
whose  wild,  half-naked  forms  would  sometimes  suddenly 
turn  up  on  some  distant  mountain-top,  on  a  look-out  for 
the  foe.  The  ascent  became  very  steep  and  rough,  like 
a  tortuous  mountain-pass  up  which  the  toiling  line  of 
camels  clambered  and  scraped  with  slow  and  weary  step, 
some  high  above  the  others.  We  passed  along  the  foot 
of  Mount  Hor,  crowned  with  a  small  white  chapel,  over 
the  supposed  remains  of  Aaron.  This  is  one  of  the  few 
spots  of  Mosaic  memory  that  can  be  identified  with  con¬ 
siderable  certainty.  The  base  where  we  stood  was  on  a 


A  DANGEEOUS  NEIGHBORHOOD. 


187 


mountain,  and  far  above  this  rose  the  round,  double-topped 
Hor.  Here,  around  these  broad,  sloping  mountain-sides, 
faintly  green  with  a  sprinkling  of  herbage,  the  congre¬ 
gation  was  encamped.  Moses  took  Aaron  and  Eleazer 
his  son  and  brought  them  upon  Mount  Hor  in  the^sight 
of  all  the  congregation.  ‘‘And  Moses  stripped  Aaron  of 
his  garments,  and  put  them  upon  Eleazer  his  son ;  and 
Aaron  died  there  in  the  top  of  the  mount.”  Hum.  20  :  28. 

Here,  for  the  first  time  for  weeks,  we  met  with  a  beau¬ 
tiful  carpet  of  grass.  The  beds  of  small  valleys  seemed 
like  meadows  in  spring,  with  occasional  flowerets.  In  our 
haste  to  get  into  the  rock-city  we  deferred  ascending 
Mount  Hor  until  the  following  day,  which  alas !  resulted 
as  procrastination  too  often  does.  The  Sheikh  became 
more  nervous  as  we  approached  Petra.  Now'  climbing  a 
mountain  wdth  spy-glass  in  hand  to  reconnoitre,  then 

mounting  a  horse,  which  Mr.  McD - of  Baltimore  had 

brought  from  Suez,  and  scouting  along  our  path.  At  one 
time  we  discovered  him  on  a  hill-top,  his  elbows  propped 
on  his  knees  and  resting  his  face  in  his  hands,  the  picture 
of  half-oblivious  meditative  melancholy.  Large  rock- 
chambers  were  already  appearing  along  the  outskirts  of 
Petra ;  and  w'e  were  on  tip-toe  for  a  startling  reception 
from  its  pretended  owners,  when  the  solitary  figure  of  a 
swarthy  Bedouin  appeared  on  an  eminence  to  the  right 
of  our  path.  He  was  armed  with  a  gun,  and  eyed  us 
with  suspicious  silence.  The  Sheikh  saluted  him  and 
vainly  asked  him  a  few  questions.  He  sat  scarcely  half 
a  mile  from  the  city,  and  must  have  been  a  sentinel  to 
herald  the  approach  of  the  stranger. 

We  took  up  our  quarters,  if  such  it  may  be  called,  on 
a  grassy  terrace  in  the  northern  part  of  the  valley,  strewn 
with  ruins  and  half-buried  foundations  of  Petra.  To 


188  ANCIENT  THEATRE  OF  PETRA. 


make  the  best  possible  use  of  our  time  before  the  Bedou¬ 
ins  would  come  on  us,  we  at  once  sauntered  into  the  heart 
of  the  city.  On  the  east  and  west,  perpendicular  rocks 
bound  the  valley,  dressed  and  hewn  off  like  artificial 
walls.  These  are  full  of  doors  leading  into  chambers  of 
various  dimensions,  some  near  the  top  giving  them  the 
appearance  of  massive  squares  of  many-storied  buildings. 
All  these  are  supposed  to  be  the  tombs  of  the  former 
inhabitants,  of  which  several  thousand  are  found  in  dif¬ 
ferent  parts  of  the  city.  Some  are  approached  by  nar¬ 
row  paths  hewn  out  of  the  rock,  others  have  no  longer 
any  way  of  access.  A  theatre  hewn  out  of  the  rocks,  witb 
thirty-three  rows  of  seats,  rising  one  above  the  other  in  a 
semicircle,  is  still  in  a  perfect  state  of  preservation. 
Above  the  seats,  a  row  of  small  chambers  looks  .down 
upon  the  scene  below.  The  number  of  spectators  it 
might  contain  has  been  variously  estimated  between  three 
and  four  thousand,  and  perhaps  as  many  more  of  the 
silent  dead  looked  down  on  these  frivolous  spectacles  of 
earth  from  the  graves  hanging  over  them.  The  rocks 
skirting  the  opposite  side  of  the  valley  likewise  abound 
in  this  singular  mixture  of  abodes  for  the  living  and  the 
dead,  —  monuments  serious  and  frivolous,  buildings  cut 
out  of  the  solid  rocks  with  many  carved  columns.  At  the 
southern  end  the  two  mountains  approach,  where  there  is 
a  large  temple.  Six  Corinthian  columns  grace  its  majes¬ 
tic  front,  of  which  one  has  fallen  over.  -Within  is  a  large 
plain  square  chamber,  and  several  smaller  ones.  The  walls 
and  ceiling  are  ^wrought  out  with  great  precision.  The 
front  shows  nothing  of  the  grey  mossy  color  of  age,  but 
looks  as  fresh  and  newly-chiselled  as  if  it  had  been 
finished  but  the  day  before.  This  may  be  partly  owing 
to  an  overhanging  rock  which  shelters  it. 


ARCHITECTURAL  REMAINS  OF  PETRA.  189 

To  carve  even  a  toy-house  out  of  one  piece  of  stone 
requires  considerable  ingenuity;  but  here  are  temples, 
with  pillars,  porticoes,  and  numerous  architectural  deco¬ 
rations;  dwellings  and  tombs,  tier  rising  above  tier,  with 
rooms,  cornices,  and  columns,  excavated  from  one  rock, 
all  one  piece,  this  day  as  they  were,  perhaps,  when 
Jacob  and  Esau  were  little  boys  —  a  sight  without  a 
parallel.  The  rocks  here,  however,  are  mostly  sand¬ 
stone,  in  which  excavations  are  not  so  diflScult.  A  va¬ 
riety  of  colors  blend  over  the  surface  —  dark-crimson, 
blue,  yellow  and  purple,  flood  and  streak  their  rays 
athwart  these  bold  fronts  with  marvellous  effect. 

Opposite  the  large  temple  is  the  mouth  of  the  “Sik,” 
the  only  remaining  clearly  defined  street  of  Petra.  With 
a  few  of  our  Arab  attendants  we  started  out  to  explore 
it.  Remains  of  a  conduit  are  found  along  the  side,  and 
fragments  of  its  old  pavement,  like  that  of  the  Appian 
Way.  A  small  stream  of  water  ran  through  the  middle, 
sometimes  spreading  over  nearly  the  whole,  where  we 
had  to  pick  our  path  over  stepping-stones.  The  water 
originally  passed  through  the  conduit  and  pipes,  which 
are  still  here  in  ruins.  The  average  width  of  the  street 
may  have  been  from  ten  to  twelve  feet.  On  both  sides 
the  rocks  rose  perpendicularly  to  the  height  of  from  one 
to  three  hundred  feet.  At  some  places  ledges  overlapped 
and  approached,  excluding  the  light,  and  suggestive  of 
any  but  pleasant  thoughts  when  standing  under  them. 
Shrubs  of  oleander  and  the  caper-plant  grew  here  and 
there  out  of  the  rocks.  After  we  had  penetrated  into 
this  crooked,  frowning  gorge,  our  guides  deserted  us,  and 
hanging  on  to  the  rear  of  the  party,  raised  false  alarms 
by  shouting  ‘‘  El- Arab,  El- Arab  !  ”  Unwilling  to  pro¬ 
ceed  by  ourselves,  we  felt  compelled  to  return.  But 


190  ETYMON  OF  THE  WORD  PETRA. 

afterward  we  made  a  second  attempt,  and  reached  an 
arch,  sprung  over  it  at  the  extreme  end,  more  than  a 
mile  from  where  we  had  started.  Some  Arabs  say  this 
stream  was  brought  from  the  rock  by  Moses ;  and  there¬ 
fore  this  sinuous  street,  resembling  a  long  rent  or  cleft 
of  the  rocks,  is  called  Wady  Mousa.  The  stream  runs 
northward  to  where  the  valley  widens.  Most  of  the 
ancient  dwellings  must  have  been  through  the  bed  of  this 
valley,  still  strewn  with  ruins.  The  ‘‘  Sik  ”  or  chasm- 
street  was  the  principal  entrance  into  the  ancient  city. 
It  is  supposed  that  the  extensive  traffic  from  India  was 
carried  on  through  here. 

The  name  of  Petra,  the  Greek  word  for  Rock, 
from  its  peculiar  rocky  position,  is  not  found  in  the 
Bible ;  but  Selah,  the  Hebrew  word  for  the  same,  does 
occur.  As  the  Old  Testament  language  was  Hebrew,  it 
is  natural  that  it  should  be  called  by  a  Hebrew  name 
during  that  period.  Accordingly,  we  read  that  Amaziah 
‘‘  slew  of  Edom  in  the  valley  of  salt  ten  thousand,  and 
took  Selah  by  war.”  2  Kings  14  :  7.  And  Isaiah,  al¬ 
luding  to  the  tribute  of  sheep  formerly  given  to  Israel, 
says :  “  Send  ye  the  lamb  to  the  ruler  of  the  land,  from 
Selah  to  the  wilderness,  unto  the  mount  of  the  daughter 
of  Zion.”  Isaiah  16  :  1.  Possibly,  it  may  have  been  a 
prosperous  city  during  the  flourishing  period  of  Edom,  or 
even,  for  aught  we  know,  its  capital.  It  is  probable  that 
the  numerous  dukes  and  kings  of  Edom  lived  and  reigned 
here.  Later  it  became  the  capital  of  Arabia  Petraea,  a 
great  emporium  of  traffic,  and  abounding  in  wealth. 
Some  of  its  present  remains  seem  to  date  from  the  time 
when  it  was  a  Roman  province.  Anciently,  it  was  three 
or  four  miles  in  circumference.  Then  it  declined,  was 


j 


PROPHECIES  CONCERNING  EDOM.  191 


lost  to  the  civilized  world  for  many  centuries,  until  re¬ 
discovered  by  Burckhardt  in  1812. 

While  the  rock-streets  of  this  once  proud  city  remain, 
Edom  has  long  ago  received  the  full  measure  of  its  pre¬ 
dicted  ruin.  The  Hebrew,  whom  he  drove  from  his 
borders,  though  scattered  among  all  nations,  is  known 
the  world  over  as  an  Israelite.  Wild,  robbing  Ishmael 
to  this  day  retains  his  predatory  habits,  and  roams  over 
‘‘the  wilderness”  whither  Hagar  brought  him;  but 
Edom  has  been  so  entirely  destroyed,  that  not  a  trace  of 
his  former  existence  can  be  found.  Who  now  can  find 
an  Edomite  ?  Their  country  is  held  by  others,  and  their 
tribe  has  become  extinct.  While  looking  at  these  mar¬ 
vellous  streets  and  dwellings,  some  high  in  the  air,  a  few 
eagles  were  soaring  over  the  city,  which  possibly  may 
have  had  their  nests  among  the  rocks,  vividly  recalling  a 
prophecy  concerning  Edom.  “  Thy  terribleness  hath 
deceived  thee,  and  the  pride  of  thy  heart ;  0  thou  that 
dwellest  in  the  clefts  of  the  rock,  that  boldest  the  height 
of  the  hill :  though  thou  shouldest  make  thy  nest  as  high 
as  the  eagle,  I  will  bring  thee  down  from  thence,  saith 
the  Lord.”  Jer.  49  :  16.  One  feels  a  mingled  sense  of 
admiration  and  sadness  in  the  presence  of  these  ram¬ 
parts  of  nature.  What  a  strong  city  thus  to  be  deserted 
and  forgotten  for  a  thousand  years  !  David  knew  of  its 
strength.  “Who  will  bring  me  into  the  strong  city? 
who  will  lead  me  into  Edom  ?  ”  Psalm  108  :  10.  With 
one  view,  you  take  in  the  dwellings  of  the  living  and  the 
dead,  where  they  worshipped  and  where  they  slept  their 
last  sleep.  The  shouting  applause  of  the  theatre,  rung 
up  to  the  sepulchral  homes  of  their  dead  friends ;  and 
these  again  were  borne  there  after  them,  and  now  their 
death-chambers  and  their  dust  are,  like  their  names,  un- 


192 


A  BED  ON  THE  HILLSIDE. 


known.  Returning  through  the  deep  street,  the  wind 
sighed  a  pensive  requiem  through  ‘‘juniper”  and  olean¬ 
der  hushes  over  the  dead  city,  deserted  even  by  its  own 
dead. 

When  we  returned  to  our  small  tent,  an  English  party 
of  seventeen  just  entered  the  city.  They  had  been 
seventeen  days  coming  from  Akaba  over  Nakel ;  we  came 
in  four.  So  much  we  saved  by  meeting  our  Sheikh, 
Abou  Raschid,  at  Akaba.  During  our  explorations,  the 
dragomen  had  spread  their  tables  on  blocks  of  stone,  •which 
soon  collected  hungry  groups  around  them.  Camels 
create  appetite  as  well  as  sleep,  and  are  capital  promoters 
of  digestion.  Reclining  on  the  grass,  we  chatted  till  a 
late  hour  over  the  causes  and  remedy  of  Sabbath  dese¬ 
cration  in  England.  I  am  not  given  to  star-gazing,  hut 
in  the  East  one’s  eyes  invariably  turn  to  the  shining 
heavens  as  he  reclines  on  the  earth,  especially  where 
the  only  lookout  you  have  from  the  rocks  is  toward 
heaven.  And  what  a  thought  that  these  old  familiar 
friends  of  mine,  Orion  and  the  Dipper,  have  nightly 
looked  down  on  Petra,  when  these  temples,  tombs,  and 
theatre,  were  teeming  with  a  living  population ! 

But  where  shall  we  sleep  ?  Each  sought  for  the  most 
restful  spot  on  the  sloping  hill-side.  1  spread  my  com¬ 
fort  and  rug  on  the  damp  ground,  at  the  foot  of  a  high 
wall,  with  a  coat  for  a  pillow,  and  two  large  stones  on 
the  lower  side  to  prevent  my  rolling  down  the  hill ;  then 
put  on  all  the  coats  I  had,  rolled  myself  in  my  cloak, 
covered  the  head  and  face  that  “  the  moon  should  not 
smite  me  by  night,”  put  my  weary  head  on  the  hard  pil¬ 
low,  with  two  revolvers  under  it,  and  committed  myself 
into  the  hands  of  the  All-keeping  Father.  Perhaps  I 
was  slightly  nervous ;  the  damp  ground  and  hard  bed  for 


it. 


E  D-  D  E  I  R. 


193 


4 


once  banished  sleep.  For  hours  I  vainly  wooed  ‘Hired 
nature’s  sweet  restorer.”  A  few  rock-ridden  wakers  kept 
me  company.  The  rest  were  rolled  up  in  blankets,  in¬ 
visible  as  mummies,  vieing  with  the  camels  in  deep,  heavy 
snores  and  groans.  The  ground  was  strewn  promis¬ 
cuously  with  man  and  beast,  which  presented  a  singular 
scene  in  the  pale  light  of  the  moon.  A  few  short,  dreamy 
naps  after  midnight  was  all  the  rest  I  got.  Hard  beds 
are  conducive  to  early  rising.  Great  was  the  croaking, 
as  one  blanket  after  the  other  unrolled  its  sore  contents 
,  at  early  dawn ;  here  a  black  visage,  and  there  a  white, 
crawled  from  their  chrysalis  beds. 

At  an  early  hour  we  were  already  on  our  way  to  Ed- 
Deir,  “  the  Convent,”  supposed  by  some  to  have  been  a 
Christian  Church.  We  passed  to  the  northern  side  of 
the  valley,  and  commenced  ascending  through  a  steep 
gorge.  Suddenly  I  felt  a  strange  sensation  in  the  head, 
and  quickly  turned  aside  from  a  precipice  to  lean  against 
a  rock.  The  damp  night,  bad  sleep,  and  excitement,  had 

brought  on  a  fainting  spell.  Mr.  M - and  the  ladies 

took  me  back  to  the  tent  and  applied  efficient  restora¬ 
tives.  The  rest  proceeded  up  a  rough  path,  over  a  stair¬ 
case  hewn  out  of  the  rock,  and  found  Ed-Deir  in  a  soli¬ 
tary  mountain  nook,  with  crosses  carved  on  its  walls,  and 
ruins  strewn  around  it. 

On  their  return  we  made  immediate  preparation  to 
leave,  already  congratulating  ourselves  for  having  escaped 
the  rapacious  Petra  Bedouins.  The  camels  were  saddled, 
and  kneeling  to  receive  us,  when  suddenly  a  noise  on  a 
ridge  of  the  adjoining  hill  revealed  our  dreaded  foe. 
They  live  some  distance  off,  with  their  flocks  and  tents, 
and  beyond  doubt  were  brought  on  us  by  the  sullen  sen¬ 
tinel  of  yesterday.  A  line  of  some  twenty  athletic  Arabs, 
17  N 


194 


UNWELCOME  VISITORS. 


blacker  than  their  usual  color,  wild  and  ragged  as  nature 
and  the  desert  could  make  them,  with  long  guns,  de¬ 
scended  the  hill  with  rapid  tread,  and  approached  us. 
A  few  muttered  a  cold  Salaam,  but  peace-wishing  was 

not  their  business  then.  Dr.  C -  distributed  hands- 

full  of  tobacco  to  provoke,  if  possible,  a  friendly  feeling. 
Raschid  sat  on  the  ground,  with  this  robbing  brood  around 
him,  who  at  once  commenced  to  clamor  for  tribute,  as 
.  they  called  it.  We  were  willing  to  give  them  the  usual 
present  of  five  dollars  apiece.  This  stirred  them  into  a 
tumult  of  passion  and  violent  vociferations.  All  screamed, 
grinned,  and  gesticulated  at  the  Sheikh,  who  sat  there 
motionless  as  a  statue.  Apparently  calm  and  fearless, 
he  occasionally  flung  a  reply  at  them,  which,  after  all, 
showed  the  lion  in  him.  The  scene  of  raving  confusion 
was  terrific.  I  had  passed  through  the  haunted  regions 
of  Italy,  and  looked  on  many  a  robber’s  face,  but  never 
have  I  seen  such  a  cut-throat  looking  set  of  brigands  as 
these.  While  some  were  giving  vent  to  their  savage 
oratory,  others  were  leaning  on  their  guns  around  them, 
with  a  fiendish  scowl.  In  the  midst  of  the  storm,  I  stood 
at  a  short  distance,  studying  their  physiognomies,  and 
fain  wished  myself  an  artist,  to  take  a  ^sketch  of  the 
whole  scene.  At  length  they  came  to  terms,  and  the 
several  dragomen  paid  for  their  parties.  But  scarcely 
had  they  received  it  before  they  demanded  more.  Un¬ 
fortunately  their  chief,  the  Sheikh  of  Petra,  was  not  pre¬ 
sent.  The  stormy  quarrel  raged  higher  than  before. 
Raschid  was  the  very  picture  of  fearless  composure. 
Whether  he  was  a  hero,  or  simply  acted  him,  I  do  not 
know  ;  but  his  whole  mien  seemed  to  say  ;  “  You  touch 
me,  if  you  dare.”  According  to  Bedouin  rules,  he  and 
his  tribe  would  have  avenged  the  shedding  of  our  blood, 


EOBBERS  BAFELED. 


195 


if  possible.  But  why  trouble  himself  about  the  extortion 
of  the  Petra  Arabs  ?  He  would  lose  nothing  by  it,  as 
long  as  they  did  not  touch  our  persons.  But  Ahmed, 
having  to  furnish  all  our  bucksheesh,  flew  into  a  violent 
rage  at  the  second  demand.  He  wildly  dashed  into  the 
heart  of  the  mob,  flung  his  burnouse  and  fez  (cap)  on 
the  back  of  his  head,  deflantly  hurling  threats  and  exe¬ 
crations  at  the  plunderers,  with  most  vehement  gestures. 
In  passionate,  wrathful  expression,  his  face  yielded  little 
to  the  most  savage  countenance  there.  He  told  them  we 
had  paid  them  what  they  demanded,  and  more  than  they 
had  a  right  to  claim ;  and  now  they  wickedly  pressed  this 
second  demand !  Then  pointing  to  us,  he  cried  out ; 
‘‘  There  they  are,  kill  them  if  you  dare.  The  Pasha  of 
Egypt  is  their  friend ;  he  will  see  to  it  that  their  blood 
be  avenged  to  the  last  drop.”  Some  reached  for  their 
guns,  others  flew  around  Ahmed  as  if  ready  to  blow  his 
brains  out.  His  voice  was  lost  amid  their  hideous 
screams.  It  was  an  Arab  mob  of  the  fiercest  kind.  A 
few  words  from  Baschid  calmed  the  tempest,  and  they 
were  paid  the  second  time.  We  at  once  mounted  the 
camels  and  started.  But  it  was  too  rare  a  chance  to  let 
us  go  yet.  Scarcely  had  we  gone  fifty  yards  until  they 
marched  before  us,  and,  with  presented  guns,  blocked  up 
the  path,  warning  us  not  to  proceed  a  step,  or  they  would 
fire.  They  seized  the  halters,  and  attempted  to  turn  the 
camels  hack.  The  danger  was  that  some  of  our  men 
might  crack  away  at  them  in  the  excitement,  which  would 
have  been  the  signal  for  a  general  slaughter.  One  of  the 
dragomen  threw  down  a  few  pieces  of  silver,  then  gave 
orders  to  advance  at  all  hazards.  As  we  urged  the 
camels  on,  their  columns  gave  way,  and  they  allowed  us 
to  pass  without  firing  a  shot ;  for  which,  under  Provi- 


196  ASSOCIATIONS  OF  MOUNT  HOR. 


dence,  we  may  thank  this  little  flourish  of  pluck,  and 
especially  the  other  party,  whose  larger  number  pro¬ 
mised  a  greater  amount  of  spoils,  which  lured  them  away 
from  us. 

At  Jerusalem  the  second  party  gave  us  a  history  of 
their  fleecing  ordeal.  Soon  after  we  had  left,  new  ar¬ 
rivals  increased  the  number  of  Petra  Bedouins  to  150. 
They  pressed  their  exorbitant  demands  with  the  usual 
amount  of  noise,  at  one  time  blockading  their  cooking- 
tent  and  table  to  starve  them  to  terms.  One  of  the  Be¬ 
douins  seized  a  short  sword,  and  drew  the  edge  over 

Lord  D - ’s  throat.  After  enduring  their  turbulent 

taunts  and  threats  of  violence  for  a  while,  they  escaped 
by  paying  between  seventeen  and  eighteen  dollars  apiece, 
nearly  three  hundred  dollars  in  all. 

Our  altercation  with  the  Arabs  robbed  us  of  a  few 
precious  hours  we  had  intended  to  devote  to  Mount  Hor. 
Again  we  passed  along  its  base,  in  sight  of  Aaron’s 
tomb,  and  begged  Raschid  to  give  us  but  a  short  time  to 
ascend  to  the  top  while  the  rest  proceeded ;  but  all  to  no 
purpose.  He  was  afraid  night  and  the  greedy  Arabs  we 
had  just  left  would  overtake  us  before  we  could  reach 
the  tents.  It  was  a  sore  trial  to  be  forced  away  from  so 
interesting  a  spot,  within  one  hour’s  climbing,  when  we 
could  not  hope  ever  to  visit  it  hereafter.  For  there  is 
scarcely  a  spot  in  all  this  wilderness,  so  clearly  identifled 
with  its  Scripture  narrative  as  this  mount.  There  is  no 
doubt,  whatever,  that  here  “  the  Lord  spake  unto  Moses 
and  Aaron  in  Mount  Hor,  by  the  coast  of  the  land  of 
Edom,  saying ;  Aaron  shall  be  gathered  unto  his  people, 
for  he  shall  not  enter  into  the  land  which  I  have  given 
unto  the  children  of  Israel,  because  ye  rebelled  ngainst 
my  word  at  the  water  of  Meribah.”  Num.  20  :  23-24. 


THE  GRAVE  OF  AARON. 


197 


The  mount  is  somewhat  conically  shaped,  rising  out  of 
other  mountains,  and  lifting  its  double  top  far  above  its 
fellows.  On  one  of  these  is  a  little  stone  building,  —  a 
Wely,  or  tomb  and  sanctuary,  such  as  Mohammedans 
build  over  the  graves  of  their  saints.  You  see  nothing 
within  but  the  usual  marks  of  Mohammedan  devotion  — 
ragged  shawls,  ostrich  eggs,,  and  a  few  beads.  But 
under  it,  in  a  cave,  is  the  supposed  grave  of  Aaron. 
Moses  took  his  brother  Aaron,  who  had  been  his  spokes¬ 
man  to  the  people,  ‘‘  up  into  Mount  Hor  in  the  sight  of 
all  the  congregation  [scattered  over  the  rising  hill-sides 
around  its  base].  And  Moses  stripped  Aaron  of  his 
garments,  and  put  them  upon  Eleazer  his  son ;  and 
Aaron  died  there  in  the  top  of  the  mount.”  Num.  20  : 
27-28.  Out  in  the  Arabah,  down  toward  the  Red  Sea, 
and  from  remote  wadys  of  the  wilderness,  you  see  the 
grave  of  Aaron  lifted  toward  heaven  from  this  double 
mountain  top,  like  the  uplifted  hands  of  the  interceding 
high-priest  at  the  altar.  From  its  summit,  you  can  look 
over  into  “the  land  of  Uz,”  the  home  of  Job. 

This  grave  of  the  first  high-priest  of  the  Jews  has 
become  a  holy  shrine  to  people  of  every  tribe  and 
tongue.  Even  the  sons  of  Ishmael  —  Bedouins  and  Mo¬ 
hammedans  —  when  they  get  but  a  passing,  distant 
glimpse  of  Wely  Nebun  Aurun  on  the  summit  of  Mount 
Hor,  pause  on  tkair  journey  to  sacrifice  an  animal,  whose 
blood  they  cover  with  a  heap  of  stones.  These  stone 
heaps  the  traveller  finds  around  the  mountain,  as  well 
as  at  the  distance  of  a  day’s  journey.  The  sons  of  Abra¬ 
ham  here  call  upon  the  God  of  their  fathers,  as  they  lie 
prostrate  around  one  of  the  holiest  Jewish  shrines,  out¬ 
side  of  Jerusalem.  Most  Christian  travellers  must  con¬ 
tent  themselves  with  a  distant  view  of  the  spot,  as  we 
17* 


198 


aLOOMY  APPREHENSIONS. 


did,  on  account  of  the  fiend-like  wickedness  of  the  Petra 
Bedouins. 

On  our  return,  we  had  to  clamber  over  the  same 
rugged  mountain  pass.  There  is  much  more  pasturage  on 
the  mountains  of  Seir  and  around  Petra,  than  further 
south.  Thinly  scattered  grass  is  found  in  the  mountain- 
streams  and  on  the  elevated  plains.  The  mountain  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  Arahah  looks  totally  bald.  When 
Moses  w^anted  to  pass  through  Edom  here,  he  promised 
not  to  “  pass  through  the  fields  or  through  the  vineyards  ” 
(Num.  20),  indicating  a  tolerable  state  of  cultivation  in 
Edom  then.  The  steep  climbing  slipped  the  saddle 
from  the  camel’s  hump,  which  sometimes  threw  itself 
on  its  knees  to  get  me  off.  This  brought  on  my  previ¬ 
ously  weak  nerves,  and  when  we  reached  the  encamp¬ 
ment  I  was  scarcely  able  to  walk  into  the  tent.  Often 
our  weak  nerves  are  more  prolific  in  tears  than  a  sorrow¬ 
ing  heart.  I  was  going  to  say,  for  once  my  heart  for¬ 
sook  me,  but  I  will  be  nearer  the  truth  when  I  say  that 
my  nerves  forsook  me.  It  was  a  dreadful  fate  to  break 
down  in  this  curse-blighted  region,  haunted  by  maraud¬ 
ing  Arabs.  A  week  before  we  had  stood  by  the  dreary 
grave  of  an  ill-fated  friend.  Will  not  travelling  aggra¬ 
vate  my  attack  and  make  it  fatal  ?  And  then  to  be 
covered  over  by  a  few  comrades,  and  left  alone,  even 
dead,  in  this  most  lonely  place !  It  threw  me  into  a 

melting  mood  for  a  little  while.  Then  came  Mrs.  S - - 

with  her  cordials  and  kind  words,  and  my  strength  re¬ 
vived.  The  next  morning  I  awoke  a  sound  man,  firmly 
believing  that,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  I  would  live  to 
reach  the  Land  of  Promise.  A  few  hours  brought  us 
back  into  the  large  rolling  plain,  or  Arahah.  Our  Be¬ 
douins  shot  a  gazelle,  which  furnished  a  new  dainty  for 


ARAB  EQUALITY. 


199 


our  table.  The  taste  was  somewhat  like  venison.  Ras- 
chid  got  on  his  old  backsheesh  hobby  again.  Nothing 
less  than  ten  dollars  for  each  party  would  do,  but  nothing 
came.  The  younger  Raschid,  the  Sheikh’s  brother,  was 
a  mere  appendage,  in  a  double  sense.  His  boarding 
and  riding  were  distributed  among  the  whole  caravan. 
As  he  had  nothing  of  his  own  to  eat,  he  usually  found 
his  way  to  one  of  the  cooks’  tents,  whenever  simmering 
pans  and  grateful  odors  invited.  He  had  no  camel,  and 
rode  on  hip  or  hump,  saddle  or  no  saddle,  wherever  he 
could  find  room.  Now  he  was  perched  on  the  bare,  bony 
hump  of  a  lean,  half-famished  beast.  Then  he  sat  on 
the  back  slope  of  that  elevation  behind  another  rider. 
At  one  time  he  indulged  in  a  sound  sleep,  stretched,  or 
rather  crouched,  on  the  declivity  between  the  hump  and 
tail,  behind  a  fellow  Bedouin.  How  a  man  can  fall 
asleep  on  such  a  rocking  hillside  without  falling  off,  I 
cannot  divine.  There  was  no  perceptible  difference  be¬ 
tween  the  Sheikh  and  his  servants  or  slaves.  They  wore 
the  same  kind  of  clothing  and  ate  the  same  kind  of  food, 
and  slept  on  Mother  Earth’s  common  bed,  with  the  same 
celestial  roof  over  them. 

April  5th.  —  Heretofore,  we  always  rested  on  the  Sab¬ 
bath,  save  the  few  miles  we  travelled  away  from  Akaba. 
But  since  four  parties  had  been  merged  into  one,  our  Sab¬ 
bath-keeping  resolutions  were  sometimes  outvoted.  We 
w'ould  need  every  day  to  reach  Jerusalem  by  Good  Friday, 
and  Raschid  still  had  the  fear  of  the  Petra  Bedouins  be¬ 
fore  his  eyes.  He  seemed  pretty  certain  that  they  would 
pursue  us,  and  a  single  day’s  delay  might  throw  us  into 
their  greedy  clutches  again.  And  then  the  poor  Sheikh 
had  no  Sabbath  scruples ;  all  days  were  alike  to  him. 
From  Ml  that  I  could  see,  he  and  his  men  were  conscious 


200 


EFFECTS  OF  THE  SIROCCO. 


of  no  higher  destiny  than  their  camels.  The  god  in 
■whom  they  seemed  to  believe,  they  triflingly  appealed 
to  in  vulgar  profanity,  but  not  in  adoring  worship. 

Some  of  us  read  the  Bible  on  the  camels,  but  their 
jolting  gait  is  not  favorable  to  such  acts  of  devotion. 
We  encamped  early,  when  one  of  the  party  read  the 
Episcopal  service  for  the  day  in  his  tent,  w^hich  seemed 
very  appropriate  for  our  circumstances.  The  sirocco 
blew  yesterday  and  to-day,  filling  the  air  with  a  hot, 
enervating  breeze.  It  always  inspires  one  with  languor 
and  prostrating  weariness.  No  amount  of  nutriment, 
resolution,  and  determination  is  proof  against  it.  The  hot 
wind  wilts  and  destroys  the  grass  in  a  short  time.  The 
wind  passeth  over  it,  and  it  is  gone.”  Psalm  103  :  16. 
Our  Bedouins  used  the  dry  grass-bushes  of  the  Desert 
for  fuel,  and  in  Palestine  they  burn  grass  to  this  day. 
Some  kinds  are  dry  even  while  growing,  so  that  they 
burn  it  immediately,  or  pull  it  up  in  the  evening  to  use 
next  day.  “  Wherefore  if  God  so  clothe  the  grass  of  the 
field,  which  to-day  is,  and  to-morrow  is  cast  into  the 
oven,  shall  He  not  much  more  clothe  you,  0  ye  of  little 
faith  ?  ”  Matt.  6  :  30. 

In  the  afternoon  we  crossed  several  ^adys,  or  dry 
water-courses,  and  then  encamped  about  three  miles  from 
the  foot  of  Mount  Safeh.  This  is  the  Desert  of  Zin, 
where  was  Kadesh  of  the  Old  Testament.  Here  the 
angel  of  the  Lord  found  Hagar,  the  mother  of  Ish- 
mael,  by  a  fountain  of  water  in  the  wilderness,”  whither 
she  had  wandered  after  fleeing  from  the  face  of  Sarah. 
Gen.  16  :  7,  14.  Here  the  Hebrews  were  encamped 
when  the  spies  returned  from  Hebron  and  Eshcol,  bring¬ 
ing  rich  fruits  with  them,  and  reports  of  tall  and  mighty 
giants.  “  And  all  the  congregation  lifted  up  their  voice 


REVOLT  OF  THE  ISRAELITES. 


201 


and  cried;  and  the  people  wept  that  night.”  Num.  13  and 
14.  I  found  the  distance  from  here  to  Hebron  twenty- 
four  hours,  so  that  the  spies  had  to  hear  their  fruit  about 
fifty  miles.  Here  the  people  ‘‘said  one  to  another,  let  us 
make  a  captain,  and  let  us  return  into  Egypt.”  They 
were  on  the  point  of  revolt,  threatening  to  stone  Joshua 
and  Caleb ;  and  when  God  threatened  to  destroy  them, 
Moses  interceded  in  their  behalf.  The  Israelites  had 
tarried  in  Zin  at  different  times,  while  they  moved  up  and 
down  the  Arabah,  during  their  long  wanderings.  They 
were  near  the  border  of  Canaan  for  at  least  thirty-eight 
years,  and  yet  not  allowed  to  enter.  Toward  the  end  of 
their  journey  Miriam,  the  sister  of  Moses,  died,  and  was 
buried  here.  Hum.  20  :  1.  Then  again  they  murmured 
because  they  had  no  water,  and  Moses  brought  water 
from  the  rock,  which  he  smote  with  his  rod.  From  here 
they  turned  southward  again,  and  passed  around  Edom 
to  the  other  side  of  the  Jordan. 

The  next  day  we  crossed  the  rugged  pass  of  Safeh. 
All  dismounted  except  the  ladies.  The  ascent  was  fear¬ 
fully  steep  and  rugged.  A  squall  of  rain  swept  over  the 
top,  which  is  crowned  with  the  crumbling  walls  of  a  few 
ancient  buildings.  Up  here  to  this  “  top  of  the  moun¬ 
tain  ”  the  rebellious  Israelites  clambered,  against  the  ex¬ 
press  command  of  Moses,  obstinately  determined  to  pro¬ 
ceed  into  the  Land  of  Promise,  in  spite  of  their  leader. 
Num.  14  :  40-45.  We  left  the  Shittah,  or  wild  accacia, 
behind  us.  It  is  very  rarely  found  in  Palestine,  only  in 
the  wilderness  of  Sinai,  where  its  hard,  thorny  wood  was 
needed  to  build  the  Altar  of  the  Law-covenant.  At 
Akaba  already  we  entered  the  dominion  of  David  and 
Solomon.  From  this  hill-top  we  got  the  first  view  of  the 
land  of  Judah. 


202 


ANCIENT  WELLS. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

/rnm  ®ms{iBlin  tn  SniisaUm* 


April  ^th.  —  Soon  after  we  started  this  morning,  we 
passed  through  a  small  dell,  where  two  Arabs  were 
ploughing,  each  with  a  camel.  This  was  the  beginning 
of  Beersheha.  In  the  afternoon  we  came  to  two  large,  deep 
wells.  The  mouth  of  each  was  walled  around  with 
square,  well-dressed  blocks  of  grey  stone,  making  a  rim 
of  two  or  three  feet  high.  Along  the  inner  edges  deep 
grooves  had  been  worn  out  by  the  friction  of  the  ropes 
with  which  the  water  was  di;awn  up.  Stone  ‘‘  watering- 
troughs  ”  were  placed  around  them.  According  to  Rob¬ 
inson,  the  larger  one  is  twelve  and  a  half  feet  in  diame¬ 
ter,  and  forty-four  and  a  half  feet  deep  to  the  surface  of 
the  water ;  sixteen  feet  of  which,  at  the  bottom,  is  exca¬ 
vated  in  the  solid  rock.  The  other  well  is  nearly  of  the 
sam5  size.  The  water  in  both  is  pure  and  sweet. 

These  wells  are  evidently  very  old.  Walled  up  with 
such  solid  masonry,  why  might  they  not  date  from  patri¬ 
archal  times  ?  Abraham  and  Abimelech  made  a  solemn 
covenant,  in  proof  that  he  had  digged  a  well.  ‘‘  And, 
therefore,  he  called  that  place  Beersheha^  or  well  of  the 
oath,  because  there  they  sware  both  of  them.”  Gen.  26  : 
33.  This  wide  plain,  with  its  wells  and  scanty  grass, 
was  the  vestibule  to  Palestine,  the  neutral  ground  be¬ 
tween  the  Desert  and  Canaan  ;  and  on  this  account  well 


JL 


VALUE  OF  WELLS  IN  ARABIA. 


203 


suited  for  the  pastoral  tribes  of  Abraham  and  Isaac. 
Abraham  sent  Hagar  to  wander  in  this  “  wilderness  of 
Beersbeba,”  where  God  opened  her  eyes,  and  she  saw 
a  well  of  water,”  that  Isbmael  might  drink.  Then  Abra¬ 
ham  dwelt  in  Beersheba  himself;  and  when  Isaac’s  ser¬ 
vants  had  dug  a  well,  and  found  water,  he  called  it 

Sheba,”  and  the  name  of  the  city,  Beersheba  —  Beer 
being  the  Arabic  and  Hebrew  for  well. 

Few  things  give  one  greater  pleasure,  in  travelling 
through  the  East,  than  its  simple  habits  and  picturesque 
scenes  which  carry  him  back  to  patriarchal  times.  And 
nowhere  have  these  primitive  habits  been  retained  in 
greater  purity  than  among  the  Bedouins  of  Arabia. 
Here,  where  the  scarcity  of  sweet  water,  the  natural 
indolence  of  the  Bedouins,  and  their  want  of  mechanical 
implements,  make  a  well  such  a  valuable  possession,  the 
old  quarrels  around  wells  are,  to  this  day,  natural  and 
frequent.  Where  water  is  so  scarce,  the  most  serious 
damage  an  enemy  can  inflict  is  to  cover  up  a  well. 
Abraham  and  Abimelech  strove  about  a  well.  When  the 
Philistines  became  envious  of  Isaac,  they  destroyed  the 
wells  which  his  father  had  digged,  and  ‘‘  filled  them  with 
earth.”  Then  Isaac  digged  them  again,  and  called  them 
by  the  names  Abraham  had  given  them.  He  digged 
other  wells,  ‘‘and  the  head  men  of  Gerar  did  strive  with 
Isaac’s  herdmen,  saying.  The  water  is  ours.”  Gen.  26. 
These  wells  were  the  centres  and  occasion  of  the  strife 
and  contention  of  those  shepherd  patriarchs,  and  con¬ 
tinue  to  be  such  among  the  Bedouins  to  this  day.  Some¬ 
times  several  hostile  tribes  are  dependent  on  the  same 
well  for  their  water.  Then  they  get  to  wrangling,  and 
the  weaker,  like  Jethro’s  daughters,  are  driven  away, 
unless  some  gallant  Moses  will  come  to  their  rescue. 


204 


THE  WELLS  OF  SCRIPTURE. 


They  were  the  natural  halting-places  for  caravans,  and 
wayfaring  travellers.  Moses  gathered  the  people  around 
a  well  in  Moah.  Num.  21 :  16.  Sometimes  an  Arab  flees 
his  tribe  to  escape  some  impending  evil,  and  his  children, 
or  children’s  children,  return,  and  meet  their  kinsfolk 
around  some  well,  as  Jacob  did,  starting  from  this  Beor- 
sheba.  Gen.  28  :  10.  The  scene  of  Abraham’s  servant 
and  Bebekah  meeting  at  the  well,  and  before  her  father, 
is  repeated  in  all  its  details  to  the  present  day.  Gen. 
24.  The  damsel  watering  his  camels  and  taking  him 
home,  the  ungirding  of  camels,  and  the  water  to  wash 
the  stranger’s  feet,  seem  most  perfectly  natural  in  the 
life  of  the  modern  Bedouins.  Often  wells  became  the 
scene  of  a  tenderer  passion.  For  at  a  well  Eliezer 
found  Bebekah  for  Isaac ;  at  a  well  Jacob  found  his 
Bachel ;  at  a  well  Moses  found  his  Zipporah.  And  at  a 
well,  too,  the  woman  of  Samaria  found  her  Saviour. 
What  wells  were  then,  they  are  still.  Shepherd  damsels 
still  lead  their  flocks  of  sheep  and  goats  to  these  watering- 
troughs  ;  men  bring  their  camels,  and  make  them  kneel 
around  wells,  and  ungird  them  as  did  Eliezer ;  women 
come  with  their  pitchers,  and  talk  to  those  “  who  sit  by 
the  well ;  ”  the  traveller  looks  toward  it  for  a  resting- 
place  for  the  night ;  if  marauding  Bedouins  are  about, 
his  dragoman  hurries  him  ofi*  to  a  less  frequented  spot. 
Thus  the  venerable  landmarks  and  customs  of  patriarchal 
times  remain  as  the  instructive  monuments  of  the  remote 
past.  To  this  day,  “  the  wells  of  Beersheba,  in  the  wide 
frontier  valley  of  Palestine,  are  indisputable  witnesses 
of  the  life  of  Abraham.” 

Musing  as  our  camels  jogged  wearily  over  the  rough 
wilderness  of  Beersheba,  the  wild  Arabs  around  seemed 
graphic  representatives  of  the  ancient  exiles  who  sought 


A  FURIOUS  TEMPEST. 


205 


refuge  down  here.  Elijah  the  Tishhite,  horn  In  the  wild 
forest  of  Gilead,  seems  by  nature  a  perfect  specimen  of  a 
Bedouin.  His  rough  camel’s  hair  mantle,  “girt  with  a 
girdle  of  leather  about  his  loins  ;  ”  his  fleetness  of  foot, 
wdth  which,  “  when  the  hand  of  the  Lord  was  upon  him,” 
he  outran  the  chariot  of  Ahab  ;  his  sudden,  almost  magi¬ 
cal  and  spectral  appearances  and  vanishings ;  his  wild 
■wandering  through  Beersheba  and  the  wilderness,  to  the 
Mount  of  God,  are  most  striking  Bedouin  characteristics, 
prophet  and  man  of  God  though  he  was. 

The  top  ridges  of  the  mountains  of  Moab,  green  with 
herbage,  now  loomed  up  across  the  valley  of  Salt,  in 
which  is  the  Dead  Sea.  The  bed  of  the  valley  was  hid 
by  intervening  hills.  Cold  squalls  of  rain  brought  all 
our  garments  and  umbrellas  into  requisition.  Camels 
hate  a  head  wind,  whether  it  be  a  sirocco  or  rain-storm. 
They  turn  the  head  away  from  the  wind  in  spite  of  you. 
And  so  we  had  to  move  partly  in  a  circle  and  allow  the 
storm  to  invert  our  umbrellas,  and  the  rain  to  saturate 
our  garments.  The  tempest  beat  so  violently  upon  camel 
and  rider  that  both  were  confused,  and  the  caravan  scat¬ 
tered  hither  and  thither.  We  begged  for  tents  to  shield 
us,  but  how  erect  a  tent  during  such  a  storm  ?  All  hands 
got  vigorously  to  work,  and  soon  we  cast  our  dripping 
cloaks  aside  and  listened  to  the  rain  pattering  on  the 
canvas  stretched- over  us.  At  one  time  the  ground  was 
flooded  with  a  carpet  of  colors,  like  a  broad  rainbow  belt 
around  the  earth.  When  it  ceased  raining,  one  of  the 
party  shot  a  large  white  bird,  either  a  stork  or  crane,  of 
which  a  number  were  flying  round  the  camp ;  swallows, 
too,  for  the  first  time  chattered  merrily  around  us.  Per- 
ha,ps  they  were  on  their  spring  return  northward,  to  a 
warmer  clime.  “  Yea,  the  stork  in  the  heaven  knoweth 
18 


206  SUDDEN  CHANGES  OF  WEATHER. 


her  appointed  times  ;  and  the  turtle,  and  the  crane,  and 
the  swallow,  observe  the  time  of  their  coming,  but  my 
people  know  not  the  judgment  of  the  Lord.”  Jer.  8  :  7. 

In  some  places  we  found  the  nights  exceedingly  genial 
and  pleasant,  neither  cold  nor  hot,  a  soothing,  balmy 
temperature,  refreshing  to  body  and  spirit.  At  Mount 
Sinai,  Akaba,  and  other  places,  the  temperature  of  day 
and  night  changed  with  violent  abruptness.  The  hot 
days  unfit  one  to  endure  the  cold  nights.  Jacob  com¬ 
plains  to  Laban ;  ^‘in  the  day  the  drought  (heat)  con¬ 
sumed  me  and  the  frost  by  night ;  and  my  sleep  departed 
from  my  eyes.”  Gen.  31  :  40.  One  will  soon  learn  here 
by  real  experience  how  it  is  possible  to  be  consumed  by 
heat  and  cold  at  the  same  place  within  twenty-four  hours. 
Where  people  live  in  tents,  or  in  the  open  air,  the  biting 
cold  is  still  less  tolerable. 

April  Sth.  —  ‘‘  Sweet  are  the  uses  of  adversity.”  Tribu¬ 
lation  is  often  a  wholesome  though  not  always  a  fascina¬ 
ting  exercise,  and  comfort  may  be  reached  through  a  night 
of  discomfort.  A  pilgrimage  through  the  desert  is  chiefly 
valuable  for  the  trials  through  which  a  person  reaches 
the  Land  of  Promise.  The  Christian  pilgrim  ‘‘through 
much  tribulation  enters  into  the  Kingdom ^of  God,”  and 
so  earth’s  traveller  enters  Canaan  from  the  side  of  the 
Wilderness.  A  discipline  though  it  be,  it  is  a  fit  prepa¬ 
ration  for  the  enjoyment  of  a  “better  country.”  It  is 
an  instructive  lesson,  if  well  learnt,  once  in  a  man’s  life¬ 
time,  to  get  where  naught  but  a  few  stunted  tufts  of 
grass  and  beasts  of  prey  are  seen  for  weeks ;  where  all 
nature  is  stripped  of  trees  and  verdure ;  where  ravenous 
beasts  of  prey  take  the  place  of  singing  birds  ;  where  with 
parched  lips  and  fainting  frame  one  is  doomed  to  breast 
the  thick  hot  air  of  the  sirocco,  and  pant  and  pray  for  a 


BORDERS  OF  PALESTINE. 


207 


cup  of  cold  water  where  no  water  is.  And  to  be  taken 
through  it,  not  in  a  few  hours  hy  the  whirl  of  a  railroad 
train,  hut  at  the  slow  toilsome  rate  of  fifteen  miles  a  day, 
and  on  the  see-saw  swinging  bump  of  a  fatiguing,  petu¬ 
lant,  foul-habited  beast  of  burden ;  where  the  famishing 
camel  wears  out,  like  the  garment  of  his  rider ;  wearily 
browsing  his  way  along  among  dry  hushes  of  crackling 
wooden  grass,  kneeling  down  a  dozen  times  a  day  to  tell 
his  rider  that  he  has  no  more  strength  to  carry  him  fur¬ 
ther  ;  here  indeed  one  is  often  tempted  to  be  “  much  dis¬ 
couraged  because  of  the  way,”  and  yet  all  is  a  healthy 
preparation  to  enter  Canaan.  First  we  get  a  glimpse  of 
“the  hill  country  of  Judea,”  then  of  “Carmel,”  where 
Nabal,  “who  was  churlish  and  evil  in  his  doings,”  and 
insulted  David,  kept  his  flocks.  1  Sam.  25.  And  then 
came  the  hills  of  “  Ziph  ”  and  “  Maon,”  where  David  hid 
himself  from  Saul.  1  Sam.  23. 

Palestine  and  the  Desert  melt  imperceptibly  into  each 
other,  like  day  and  night  in  twilight.  The  night  grad¬ 
ually  vanishes,  the  dawn  comes  and  hides  the  stars,  and 
lo  !  the  sun  peeps  up  from  the  east.  But  who  can  draw 
the  line  where  night  ceases  and  day  begins?  Trees  dis¬ 
appear,  but  grass  increases.  We  left  the  palm  at  Akaba 
and  the  Shittah  or  Burning  Bush  beyond  the  pass  of 
Safeh.  Yesterday  the  ground  seemed  greener  with  small 
grass,  and  patches  of  grain  were  here  and  there  seen. 
A  few  swallows  for  the  first  time  swept  over  the  ground, 
and  now  and  then  a  new  bird  would  warble  its  sweet 
solitary  song.  A  few  blood-drops  of  the  anemones, 
which'  we  had  left  at  Petra,  reappeared,  and  daisies 
modestly  lifted  their  heads  out  of  the  grass.  This  faint 
prolonged  approach  of  life  and  the  receding  of  the  desert, 
had  an  efiect  indescribably  soothing.  Toward  evening 


208 


ABRAHAM  AND  ISAAC. 


the  ground  was  literally  covered  with  . the  richest  variety 
of  grass,  and  flower-hues.  At  break  of  day  this  morning, 
a  multitude  of  birds  woke  me  with  their  early  songs,  so 
charmingly  sweet  that  I  scarcely  knew  whether  it  was  a 
dream  or  a  reality.  The  rain  had  left  a  sweet  pure 
breath  on  the  earth  and  grass,  as  it  always  does :  “  Like 
rain  upon  the  mown  grass ;  as  showers  that  water  the 
earth.”  Psalm  72  :  6.  The  whole  was  like  the  refresh¬ 
ing  reign  of  Messiah’s  Kingdom. 

“  And  he  shall  be  as  the  light  of  the  morning, 

When  the  sun  riseth,  even  a  morning  without  clouds ; 

As  the  tender  grass  springing  out  of  the  earth 
By  clear  shining  after  rain.^^ 

2  Sam.  23  :  4. 

% 

t 

The  profusion  of  flower-coloring,  pale  and  dark-blue,  pink, 
white  and  yellow,  was  most  enchanting.  Again  we  had 
a  mountain  to  cross,  among  whose  clifiy  rocks  our  half- 
famished  weary  camels  tremblingly  threaded  along.  At 
one  place  the  sloping  path  approached  the  edge  of  a 
steep  ravine,  and  one  of  the  poor  beasts  carrying  two 
heavy  chests  slipped  and  reeled  over,  tumbling  and  crash¬ 
ing  down  from  cliff  to  clifi*  with  loud  pitiful  groans.  I  little 
thought  that  the  sorry  animal  would  ever  carry  another 
burden ;  but  the  chests  being  ungirded  he  rose  to  his  feet 
ready  to  resume  his  task.  This  was  hallowed  ground. 
Abraham  brought  Isaac  up  here  from  Beersheba  to  offer 
him  upon  Moriah.  Ever  and  anon  I  thought  of  “  who  is 
this  that  cometh  from  Edom,  with  dyed  garments  from 
Bozrah ;  ”  and  of  the  Church  coming  up  “  out  of  the 
wilderness  like  pillars  of  smoke.”  Song  of  Sol.  3  :  6. 

In  approaching  different  countries  we  had  been  repeat¬ 
edly  threatened  with  Quarantine.  Again  the  fearful 
news  reached  us  from  Hebron.  But  what  is  Quarantine  ? 


V 


EASTERN  QUARANTINE.  209 

In  the  East  travellers  coming  from  a  country  suspected 
of  having  the  plague,  are  locked  up  in  a  prison-like 
building,  on  the  frontiers  of  the  country  they  wish  to 
enter,  generally  for  five  days,  counting  the  days  of 
arrival  and  departure,  which  really  would  only  make 
three.  Sick  or  well,  you  are  bolted  into  these  flea- 
infested  cells,  an  object  of  dread  to  all  that  see  you  — 
fearful  that  your  very  touch,  like  the  leper’s,  may  bring 
certain  death.  So-called  doctors  eye  you,  at  a  safe  dis¬ 
tance,  with  learned  care,  and  fill  your  cell  with  brim¬ 
stone  vapor  almost  to  suffocation ;  while  fearful  loungers 
watch  without,  to  steal  a  sight  of  one  reeking  with  the 
plague  incarnate.  Such  an  ordeal  would  try  a  man’s 
patience  under  any  circumstances.  But  as  we  stepped 
out  of  the  wilderness  into  the  grassy  glens  of  Canaan, 
birds,  flowers,  and  buoyant  life,  still  increasing  as  we 
approached  Jerusalem,  the  goal  of  our  wanderings,  our 
pilgrim  enthusiasm  was  ill  fitted  to  brook  a  delay  which 
would  keep  us  in  such  a  gloomy  prison,  within  one  day 
from  the  Holy  City,  and  that  just  long  enough  to  miss 
the  Easter  Festival.  The  conflicting  reports  of  the  Arabs 
coming  from  Hebron  did  little  to  relieve  our  fears. 

We  took  a  hasty  luncheon,  and  then  urged  our  beasts 
toward  Hebron  at  a  rapid  pace.  The  grass  grew 
among  the  numerous  stones  and  bald  rocks  that  covered 
the  hill-surfi  ces  —  excellent  pasturage,  where  the  flocks 
of  Abraham  used  to  graze.  Arabs  weeding  the  grain, 
others  ploughing  with  oxen  and  riding  on  horseback^ 
gave  a  new  feature  to  the  scene.  The  lowing  of  herds, 
the  occasional  shout  of  an  Arab  shepherd,  the  hum  of 
birds,  bugs,  and  beasts,  now  followed  tile  silence  of  the 
Desert.  One  could  see  and/eeZ  most  really  how 
18*  c 


210 


CAVE  OF  MACHPELAH. 


“  The  little  hills  rejoice  on  every  side. 

The  pastures  are  clothed  with  flocks. 

The  valleys  also  are  covered  over  with  corn  (grain) : 

They  shout  for  joy,  they  also  sing.^^ 

Psalm  65  :  12-13. 

Up  the  terraced  hill-sides  rose  luxuriant  wheat-fields, 
and  old  sturdy  olive-groves  sloped  down  to  their  bases. 
We  rode  to  the  right,  along  the  side  of  a  hill;  below  us 
a  charming  upland-vale  extended  toward  a  recess  in  the 
valley  ;  and  lo  !  there  the  top  of  the  minaret  loomed  up, 
which  is  over  the  dust  of  the  Patriarchs  in  the  field  of 
Machpelah. 

Since  leaving  Suez  we  had  seen  neither  village  nor 
house,  save  the  few  huts  at  Akaha.  Now  from  the  top 
of  the  hill  we  had  a  complete  view  of  the  city,  which 
the  Arabs  to  this  day  call  the  city  of  ‘‘  the  Friend  of 
God.”  James  2  :  23.  The  dark  green  wheat  and  paler 
olives,  the  bald  grey  rocks  walling  up  the  city,  and  the 
neat  flat-roofed  stone  dwellings  rising  along  the  hill  until 
they  culminate  in  the  large  mosque  over  the  cave  of 
Machpelah,  presented  a  scene  never  to  be  forgotten.  We 
descended  the  hill,  and  encamped  on  a  grassy  graveyard 
north  of  the  city.  There  was  no  Quarantine ;  but  as  the 
buildings  were  near  our  tents,  we  paid  them  a  voluntary 
visit.  While  the  tents  were  pitched,  we  strolled  into  the 
city,  past  the  large  pool,  still  full  of  water,  where  David 
hung  up  the  murderers  of  Ishbosheth  the  son  of  Saul. 
2  Sam.  4  :  12.  It  was  about  3  P.  m.,  the  ninth  hour  accord¬ 
ing  to  their  reckoning,  the  hour  of  prayer.  I  noticed 
a  number  of  persons  on  the  flat  house-tops,  praying  — 
a  custom  still  prevalent  in  the  East,  as  it  was  in  the  days 
of  Peter.  We  proceeded  through  narrow  muddy  streets, 
greatly  disappointed  with  the  first  impressions  received 


MOHAMMEDAN  EDUCATION. 


211 


at  a  distance.  At  the  upper  end  of  the  city  we  ap¬ 
proached  the  door  of  the  court  around  the  Great 
Mosque,  but  were  turned  away,  as  none  but  Mohamme¬ 
dans  are  permitted  to  enter.  One  of  the  sentinels 
pointed  to  a  hole  in  the  wall  near  the  door,  through 
which  ‘‘Infidels”  might  get  a  peep  at  Abraham’s  grave; 
but  nothing  could  be  seen.  We  walked  around  the  wall 
enclosing  it,  50  or  60  feet  high,  200  long,  and  150  wide. 
In  the  centre  of  this  is  the  mosque  over  the  graves  of 
the  Patriarchs,  the  field  of  Machpelah,  which  Abraham 
bought  for  a  burying-place.  Gen.  23.  When  Jacob  was 
about  to  breathe  his  last  in  Egypt,  he  blessed  his  sons, 
and  charged  them  to  bury  him  with  his  “  fathers,  in  the 
cave  that  is  in  the  field  of  Machpelali;”  “there  they 
buried  Abraham  and  Sarah  his  wife ;  there  they  buried 
Isaac  and  Rebekah  his  wife ;  and  there  I  buried  Leah.” 
Gen.  49  :  31.  And  hither  they  brought  him,  across  the 
Desert,  300  miles,  with  “  a  very  great  company  ”  of 
mourners  following.  Solemn  burials,  and  long,  sad 
funeral  trains  must  have  thronged  this  God’s-acre  in 
olden  times.  Jacob  was  embalmed,  and  therefore  his 
mummy  may  still  repose  here,  retaining  his  crisped  form, 
features,  and  undecayed  bones. 

Near  the  mosque  are  the  principal  bazaars  of  the  city. 
They  had  just  been  closed,  and  the  streets  were  almost 
impassably  muddy  from  the  recent  rain.  A  loud  noise 
of  children  coming  from  a  cellar  attracted  our  attention, 
which  we  found  to  be  a  Mohammedan  school.  The 
teacher  stood  at  one  end,  and  started  them  in  repeating 
a  passage  from  the  Koran,  and  then  kept  them  all  bawl¬ 
ing  away  in  concert  until  he  thought  they  knew  it.  Thus 
they  are  taught  isolated  passages  from  their  Sacred  Book 
by  rote,  without  being  able  to  read  a  word  This  com- 


212 


HEBRON. 


prises  the  Mohammedan  system  of  education,  in  all  its 
branches. 

Hebron  lies  at  the  sloping  base  of  two  hills,  separated 
by  a  narrow  valley,  forming  a  basin.  The  greater  part 
is  on  the  eastern  side  of  it.  The  rocky  hills  rise  high 
above  the  city,  rich  with  pasture,  grain,  and  large  olive 
orchards.  The  city  has  about  five  thousand  inhabitants, 
of  which  five  hundred  are  Jews,  the  rest  Mohammedans. 
When  we  returned  to  our  tents,  a  crowd  of  curious  idlers, 
men,  women,  and  children,  were  inquisitively  lounging 
about  the  doors,  until  a  few  soldiers  drove  them  away. 
The  graves  around  us  were  walled  and  plastered  up  to  an 
edge,  like  a  roof,  and  whitewashed  —  the  same  as  the 
“  whited  sepulchres  ’’  to  which  our  Saviour  compares  the 
hypocrisy  of  the  scribes  and  Pharisees,  which  had  a 
beautiful  outside,  ‘‘  but  within  are  full  of  dead  men’s 
bones,  and  of  all  uncleanness.”  Matt.  23  :  27.  Just  be¬ 
fore  the  sun  slid  behind  the  hill,  a  soft  light  shone  on 
Hebron ;  the  loud  laugh  and  prattle  of  childhood  sounded 
like  coming  from  a  European  or  American  village.  Late 
'  at  night  it  was  still  dimly  visible  in  the  light  of  the 
waning  moon.  The  whole  seemed  like  a^ vision  of  long 
ages  past,  when  Abraham  first  pitched  his  tent  here,  and 
‘‘sat  in  the  tent-door  in  the  heat  of  the  day,”  and  three 
men  announced  the  impending  destruction  of  Sodom  and 
Gomorrah ;  he  interceded  for  Lot,  his  friend  and  kins¬ 
man,  and  then  “  early  in  the  morning  ”  he  beheld  the 
smoke  of  the  doomed  cities  rise  up  “  as  the  smoke  of  a 
furnace.”  Over  these  hills  the  sons  of  Jacob  led  their 
flocks,  while  the  eyes  and  heart  of  the  good  old  man  fol¬ 
lowed,  and  chid  their  feuds.  Here  he  received  intelli¬ 
gence  that  his  son  Joseph  was  still  living,  and  from  here 
he  started  for  the  land  of  Egypt.  Here  David  had  his 


RETROSPECTIVE  MEDITATIONS.  213 


royal  residence  for  seven  years  and  a  half,  where,  per¬ 
haps,  he  composed  many  of  those  Psalms  through  which 
myriads  of  believing  hearts  still  pour  out  their  penitence 
and  praise.  Meditating  upon  God’s  merciful  goodness, 
which  had  safely  brought  us  thus  far  on  our  journey,  and 
looking  at  the  starry  heavens,  I  could  not  hut  think  how 
David  had  done  the  same  thing  in  this  cheerful  vale  of 
Hebron : 

“  When  I  consider  thy  heavens,  the  work  of  Thy  fingers, 

The  moon  and  the  stars  which  Thou  hast  ordained ; 

What  is  man  that  Thou  art  mindful  of  him, 

And  the  son  of  man  that  Thou  visitest  him?'^ 

Ps.  8. 

Again  and  again  I  stood  at  the  door  of  the  tent. 
Light  glimmered  through  a  few  windows,  while  the  city 
slept  quietly  and  sweetly  over  the  silent  remains  of  these 
“  holy  men  of  old.”  Time  puts  them  so  far  from  us,  yet 
their  eyes  saw  these  heavens  and  hills,  and  faith  still 
feels  the  holy  power  of  their  true  and  earnest  lives.  Such 
is  Hebron,  one  of  the  most  ancient  cities  of  Palestine, 
the  home  and  tomb  of  the  Patriarchs.  Gen.  13  :  18. 

The  next  morning  the  crowing  of  cocks  and  the  buzz 
and  hum  of  village  life  woke  us  with  old  familiar  sounds. 
A  crowd  of  Arabs  collected  around  our  quarters,  raising 
the  usual  noisy  row  with  the  dragomen  for  bucksheesh. 
The  little,  old  grey-bearded  man  who  had  faithfully 
piloted  my  “ship”  over  rough  seas  from  Akaba  to  He¬ 
bron,  was  too  modest  to  ask  for  a  present.  When  I  gave 
him  his  gift  he  put  it  into  a  bosom  pocket,  which  all  have, 
to  carry  presents  and  money  in.  Our  Saviour  alluded 
to  this  in  Luke  6  :  38.  “  Give  and  it  shall  be  given  unto 
you ;  good  measure,  pressed  down,  and  shaken  together, - 
and  running  over  shall  men  give  into  your  bosom.'' 


214  PARTING  WITH  THE  BEDOUINS. 

Here  we  had  to  part  with  Arabs  and  camels.  Sheikh 
Raschid  evidently  wished  for  the  everlasting  hucksheesh, 
but  he  had  sense  enough  not  to  press  his  futile  claim  too 
hard.  He  did  us  a  good  service  where  we  had  no  one 
else  to  render  it.  Although  he  tried  to  slip  the  cable, 
if  he  did  it  to  keep  us  out  of  danger,  he  deserves  praise. 
We  parted  good  friends.  For  a  Bedouin  he  is  an  honor¬ 
able  man,  a  dignified,  unpolished  gentleman,  unschooled 
in  the  deceitful  arts  of  civilized  dissimulation,  fresh  from 
the  hands  of  artless  Nature.  He  was  a  most  graphic 
specimen  of  a  patriarchal  chief.  Cautious  to  avoid  dan¬ 
ger,  hut  fearless  and  cool  when  it  came ;  his  image  has 
so  stamped  itself  upon  my  mind  that  I  seldom  think  of 
Abraham  or  Moses  without  thinking  of  Sheikh  Raschid. 
My  faithful  Mahommed  kissed  my  hand  at  parting,  in¬ 
voking  the  peace  and  blessing  of  Allah  on  my  further 
journey.  Poor  fellows !  now  they  return  to  their  peaceful, 
contented  homes  in  the  wilderness.  Much  as  they  love 
money,  no  amount  could  buy  them  to  dwell  in  more  en¬ 
lightened  regions.  There  they  will  live,  and  die,  and  he 
buried  and  forgotten. 

Right  glad  we  were  to  part  with  our  camels.  They 
and  their  predecessors  carried  us  as  well  as  nature  taught 
them  how,  but  any  journey  is  “  a  hard  road  to  travel  ”  if 
you  must  make  it  on  a  camel’s  back.  It  is  his  nature 
so  to  he.  Fleetness  of  foot  he  possesses  in  a  remarkable 
degree.  Give  him  rope  and  a  good  path,  and  he  will 
stream  over  the  desert  like  a  ship  before  the  storm ;  but 
see  to  it  that  your  joints  be  well-knit  and  your  hold  fast, 
or  he  will  shake  part  or  the  whole  from  his  back.  David 
could  smite  all  the  iVmalekites  at  Ziklag  save  400,  who  « 
.rode  swift  camels.  1  Sam.  30  :  17.  The  camel  is  one 
of  those  necessary  evils  to  which  some  mortals  must  of 


TUB  GRAPES  OF  ESHOOL. 


215 


necessity  submit ;  but  that  is  a  merciful  provision  of  Na¬ 
ture  which  through  long  ages  has  confined  the  need  of  his 
services  to  countries  where  people  have  patience  and  spinal 
columns  fit  to  endure  them. 

After  such  a  conveyance  the  most  stumbling  jade 
would  be  a  luxury.  In  spite  of  the  torturing  Turkish 
saddles,  which  have  the  seat,  back,  and  stirrups  in  the 
wrong  shape  and  place,  especially  for  legs  that  are  w'here 
they  ought  to  be,  our  horses  tripped  over  the  rough  paths 
with  marvellous  ease  and  nimbleness.  We  rode  north¬ 
ward  between  the  walls  of  vineyards,  through  narrow 
lanes  roughly  paved,  and  up  along  “  the  brook  of  Eshcol,” 
where  the  spies  cut  down  their  cluster  of  grapes.  Num. 
13  :  23.  There  is  no  stream  of  water  here,  as  the  name 
would  seem  to  imply — a  mere  waterless  dale  being  some¬ 
times  translated  brook  in  our  English  Bible,  as  the  brook 
of  Kedron  and  this  one.  The  stony  valley  slopes  and 
spreads  up  the  hill,  still  abounding  with  luscious  grapes. 
The  thick  vine-stems  stand  erect  unsupported,  like  so 
many  trees.  I  was  told  by  a  resident  of  Palestine,  that 
he  had  seen  grapes  in  the  vale  of  Eshcol  at  least  one  inch 
in  diameter,  and  some  as  large  as  a  walnut.  They  are 
to  this  day  the  most  luscious  fruit  of  the  vine  anywhere 
to  be  found  in  Palestine.  According  to  American  or 
European  notions  of  grapes,  the  “cluster”  which  the 
spies  bore  “  between  two  upon  a  staff,”  seems  unaccount¬ 
ably  large ;  but  for  the  latitude  of  Hebron  it  is  per¬ 
fectly  natural.  “  Pomegranates  and  figs,”  which  the  spies 
brought  from  here,  likewise  abound  to  this  day.  Walls 
enclose  the  vineyards,  made  with  the  stones  so  profusely 
scattered  over  the  surface.  Each  vineyard  has  a  tower 
or  small  lodge  for  the  keeper,  like  the  Saviour’s  house¬ 
holder  in  the  Parable,  “  which  planted  a  vineyard  and 


216 


THE  OAK  OF  ABRAHAM. 


hedged  it  round  about,  and  digged  a  wine-press  in  it,  and 
built  a  tower.' ^  Matt.  21  :  33.  During  the  vintage  or 
grape-gatbering  season,  so  many  persons  abide  in  the 
towers  of  tbe  vineyards  around  Hebron,  that  the  city  is 
almost  entirely  deserted. 

After  our  horses  bad  climbed  over  several  stone- 
hedges,  we  rode  through  a  small  field  and  dismounted 
under  the  famous  oak  of  Abraham,  which  tradition  re¬ 
gards  as  the  only  relic  that  marks  the  dwelling-place  of 
the  patriarch.  ‘^Abraham  removed  his  tent,  and  came 
and  dwelt  in  the  plain  of  Mamre,  which  is  in  Hebron, 
and  built  there  an  altar  to  the  Lord,”  where  he  after¬ 
ward  also  entertained  th#»  angels.  Gen.  13  :  18.  This 
terebinth  or  oak  is,  very  large,  its  trunk  being  over 
twenty-two  feet  in  circumference.  Writers  of  300  years 
ago  already  alluded  to  it ;  but  whether  it  was  here  in 
Abraham’s  day  is  another  question.  Nor  does  it  matter 
much,  for  I  felt  satisfied  that  one  of  those  glens  around 
me  was  the  plain  of  Mamre. 

From  Eshcol  we  proceeded  toward  Bethlehem  and 
Jerusalem.  We  took  our  noon-day  meal  in  the  shadow 
of  a  khan,  at  Solomon’s  pools.  Here  are  three  large 
basins,  firmly  walled  up,  varying  from  400  to  580  feet 
in  length,  and  from  25  to  50  feet  deep.  Stone  steps 
lead  down  to  the  bottom,  so  that  water  can  be  got  at  any 
depth.  Just  then  they  were  full  of  water.  Twenty 
minutes  below  this,  are  the  gardens  of  Solomon,  supplied 
and  fertilized  from  these  pools,  where  trees  and  vege¬ 
tables  are  raised  with  tropical  luxuriance.  I  believe  it  is 
generally  admitted  that  Solomon  had  his  country  retreat 
here.  ‘‘  I  made  me  gardens  and  orchards,  and  I  planted 
trees  in  them  of  all  kinds  of  fruits :  I  made  me  pools  of 
water,  to  water  therewith  the  wood  that  bringeth  forth 


iJOLOMON’S  GABDENS. 


217 


trees.”  Eccle.  2  :  5-6.  It  is  thought  that  he  alludes  to 
these  gardens  and  pools  deriving  their  water  from  a 
fountain,  whose  aqueducts  can  be  sealed  or  shut  up,  in 
the  Song  of  Solomon  4  :  12.  ‘‘A  garden  inclosed  is  my 

sister,  my  spouse,  a  spring  shut  up,  a  fountain  sealed"' 
Josephus  says :  “  There  was  a  certain  place  about  fifty 
furlongs  distant  from  Jerasalem  (about  seven  miles), 
w’hich  is  called  Etham  ;  very  pleasant  it  is  in  fine  gar¬ 
dens,  and  abounding  in  rivulets  of  water ;  thither  did  he 
(Solomon)  use  to  go  out  in  the  morning,  sitting  on  high 
in  his  chariot.”  From  these  pools,  the  water  is  carried 
through  aqueducts  to  Bethlehem  and  Jerusalem.  On 
one  of  the  rocks  on  the  hills  around  the  gardens,  Samson 
had  his  interview  with  the  men  of  Judah.  ‘‘  Then  three 
thousand  men  of  Judah  went  to  the  top  of  the  rock 
Etam  (Etham),”  to  consult  with  him  for  having  stirred 
up  the  Philistines  against  them.  Judges  15  :  11. 

Josephus  also  praises  Solomon  for  having  improved  the 
roads  around  Jerusalem.  He  may  then  have  had  a 
chariot-road  to  his  gardens,  but  no  wise  man  would  risk 
his  life  in  a  chariot  over  these  roads  now.  The  winter- 
rains  have  had  all  their  own  way  on  the  hills  of  Judea, 
tearing  up  roads  and  strewing  them  with  rocks  and  ruts, 
over  which  only  horses  and  mules  can  pick  their  path 
with  the  utmost  caution  and  care.  Here  and  there  a 
patch  of  wheat  or  barley  was  seen  in  a  rocky  dell ;  the  rest 
was  naught  but  bleak,  cold-looking  hills,  the  earth  having 
all  been  washed  from  the  rocks. 

While  Ahmed  hastened  to  Jerusalem  to  engage  lodg- 
ings,  we  turned  to  one  side  to  pass  through  Bethlehem. 
The  hills  around  it  were  green  with  wheat,  —  a  pleasant 
picture  of  the  industry  of  its  inhabitants.  As  we  ap¬ 
proached  it,  a  half-grown  fair-skinned  Arab  boy  reclined 
19 


218 


FIRST  VIEW  OF  JERUSALEM. 


behind  a  wall  near  his  small  flock  of  goats,  a  pattern  of 
‘‘the  Son  of  Jesse,”  who  was  ruddy,  and  withal  of  a 
beautiful  countenance,  and  goodly  to  look  to.  We 
entered  the  gate  and  rode  through  a  narrow  street  to 
the  convent  built  over  the  traditional  site  of  our 
Saviour’s  birth.  It  consists  of  a  large  building  like  a 
fortress  or  castle,  on  the  southern  brow  of  the  hill. 
Leaving  our  horses  in  a  small  square  in  front  of  this 
building,  we  stooped  through  a  low  narrow  door  into  an 
old  church.  In  the  absence  of  Ahmed  we  had  no  inter¬ 
preter,  and  therefore  concluded  to  hasten  toward  Jerusa¬ 
lem,  and  leave  Bethlehem  for  a  future  visit.  Indeed,  it 
was  soon  felt  that  we  had  no  patience  to  enjoy  any  sight 
so  near  the  Holy  City.'  We  had  to  breast  a  violent  storm, 
which  kept  the  horses  leaning  toward  the  wind  to  avoid 
being  blown  out  of  the  path. 

A  half  an  hour  beyond  Bethlehem  we  reached  an  emi¬ 
nence  where  the  walls  of  Jerusalem  first  came  in  view. 
The  caravans  of  simple  pilgrims  simultaneously  prostrate 
themselves  on  the  earth  in  prayer,  when  they  get  the  first 
view  of  the  city.  My  first  impulse  of  feeling  would  have 
driven  me  to  the  same  devout  posture,  had  1  been  alone. 
Fools  that  w’e  are  !  ashamed  of  others,  we  must  stifle  our 
earnest  holy  feelings  to  bide  them.  Call  it  superstition 
or  anything  else,  so  I  felt,  and  may  God  forgive  my 
hypocrisy ! 

The  approach  from  this  side  is  not  imposing.  Only 
p.%rt  of  the  wall  could  be  seen  along  the  highest  part  of 
the  city,  and  behind  it  the  hill  slopes  down  toward  the 
Mount  of  Olives.  A  few  minarets  rose  above  the  wall, 
but  little  else  could  be  seen  within  it.  Jerusalem, 
“  the  joy  of  the  whole  earth  !  ”  how  singular  one  feels 
when  approaching  it  for  the  first  time  !  No  one  spoke  a 


enter  the  holy  city. 


219 


word  as  we  slowly  rode  on  our  way.  A  long  train  of 
events  from  remote  antiquity  passed,  like  a  vision,  be¬ 
fore  my  spirit,  and  then  the  event  for  which  all  other 
events  were  made,  rose  vividly  over  all,  like  a  star  above 
the  city.  It  was  on  the  afternoon  before  Good  Friday. 
The  evening  was  approaching  on  which  Christ  suffered 
in  Gethsemane,  the  night  of  His  betrayal,  in  which  He 
also  instituted  the  Holy  Supper.  I  thought  of  His  cruci¬ 
fixion,  when  He  was  mocked  and  mangled  for  our  sins ; 
then  how'  darkness  settled  on  these  hills  and  the  rocky 
earth  quaked  when  He  had  finished.”  Now  and  then 
a  mounted  Arab  met  us  coming  out  of  the  city,  gracefully 
raising  his  hand  in  salutation.  As  one  after  the  other 
muttered  his  Salaam  Aleikum  (Peace  be  with  you)  they 
seemed  like  heralds  bidding  us  welcome  to  ‘‘  the  Abode 
of  Peace,”  (which  is  the  meaning  of  the  word  Jerusalem). 
We  rode  across  the  valley  of  Hinnom,  entered  by  the  Jaffa 
gate,  whither  Ahmed  had  sent  a  messenger  to  conduct 
us  to  our  lodgings.  The  principal  street  was  almost  im¬ 
passable  from  the  swarming  throng  of  pilgrims.  To 
avoid  these  we  turned  north  through  a  crooked  narrow 
alley,  then  down  the  Via  Dolorosa  (the  Way  of  Sorrow^ 
where  we  found  lodgings  provided  for  us  in  the  so-called 
hotel  of  Antonio  —  Somebody. 

It  was  quite  an  event  for  us  to  take  up  quarters  in 
Jerusalem,  thrilling  enough  to  keep  one  in  devout  ecsta- 
cies  for  months,  had  not  my  garments  been  so  thoroughly 
worn  into  rags.  Whatever  we  may  think  of  the  clothes 
of  the  Hebrews  not  waxing  old  during  the  forty  years 
wandering  in  the  wilderness  (Deut.  29  :  5),  I  can  speak 
from  literal  and  most  ragged  experience,  that  the  shoes 
and  other  clothing  of  ordinary  human  beings  do  wear 
and  tear  with  inconvenient  rapidity,  during  a  modern 


% 


220 


REPAIRING  DAMAGES. 


and  less  protracted  journey  through  the  same  country. 
I  had  started  with  an  excellent  new  pair  of  shoes,  made 
of  uncolored  leather,  so  as  not  to  attract  the  sun.  At 
Mount  Sinai  the  monks  half  soled  them,  that  is  to  say, 
bound  pieces  of  dry  skin  to  the  soles  with  latchets  ”  or 
straps  of  the  same  material.  The  sharp,  granite  rocks 
of  the  sacred  mountain,  and  a  week’s  journey  to  Akaba, 
brought  my  feet  into  a  more  forlorn  condition  than  ever. 
Here  I  had  the  job  repeated  by  a  Turk,  with  no  better 
success,  and  an  equal  cost  of  one  dollar. 

As  the  Ishmaelites  are  not  very  fastidious  in  cleanli¬ 
ness,  they  are  innocent  of  the  art  of  washing  linens. 
To  meet  the  difficulty,  the  stiff-starched  linens  of  civiliza¬ 
tion  had  to  give  place  to  red  flannel  sailor  shirts,  which 
needed  washing  only  once  or  twice  a  month.  Then  our 
half-leathern  trowsers  did  very  well  so  far  as  the  leather 
extended  ;  but  beyond  that  they  required  daily  inspection 
toward  the  last.  For  awhile,  it  was  sufficient  to  attend 
to  this  mending  duty  once  a  day ;  but  at  the  end  it  be¬ 
came  a  serious  question  wFether  it  should  not  be  done 
twice.  It  may  sound  irreverent,  but  let  necessity  an¬ 
swer  for  that;  my  first  two  or  three  hours  in  Jerusalem 
were  spent  in  sewing  up  rents  and  rags^  plying  the 
needle  with  the  rapidity  of  an  adept  tailor.  But  the 
shoes  were  past  recovery.  It  was  toward  the  close  of 
the  latter-rain,  when  the  daily  showers  had  filled  the 
streets  with  water  and  mud.  The  gutters  in  the  middle 
of  the  narrow  streets  were  half  full  of  mire,  and  the 
rough,  slippery  pavements  sloping  toward  them,  made 
walking  difficult  with  the  best  of  shoes.  It  was  no  place 
to  walk  on  worn-out  skins.  After  a  long  search  I  found 
one  man  in  all  Jerusalem  who  could  make  anything 
above  a  Turkish  slipper  or  morocco  socks.  But  the  next 


NEWS  FROM  HOME. 


221 


day  was  a  holy  day,  and  then  followed  Easter  again,  on 
which  he  would  not  ply  a  tool.  Humble  as  I  felt,  I  was 
hardly  prepared  to  engage  in  the  most  impressively 
solemn  service  of  my  life  in  such  unbecoming  apparel. 
For  the  shoes  could  neither  be  blacked  nor  patched,  and 
the  mud  splashes  on  the  white  leather  indicated  a  degree 
of  woe-begone  austerity  and  self-denial,  which  few  of  the 
15,000  pilgrims  then  in  Jerusalem  could  boast  of. 

The  next  thought  was  news  from  the  Fatherland.  At 
home  one  often  longs  to  roam  through  foreign  lands,  and 
fancies  what  an  earthly  paradise  he  might  find  in  other 
countries.  And  here  a  man  cannot  be  five  minutes 
within  the  walls  of  the  most  famous  city  in  the  world, 
before  he  rumages  every  banking-house  and  consul’s 
office  for  letters  and  newspapers.  Even  in  Jerusalem  he 
is  tempted  to  regard 

“His  home,  the  spot  of  earth  supremely  blest, 

A  dearer,  sweeter  spot  than  all  the  rest.'^ 

Palestine  has  no  post-office  or  mail  arrangement  of 
any  kind.  Letters  directed  to  the  care  of  some  banker 
or  consul  are  generally  received,  but  few  others.  I  had 
not  heard  from  home  for  three  long  months,  during  which 
all  my  joyous  expectations  tvere  bottled  up  for  Jerusa¬ 
lem.  I  knew  that  my  letters  were  inside  the  city  walls, 
but  where  to  find  them  was  an  intricate  problem.  Ahmed 
returned  again  and  again  from  his  ineffectual  search.  At 
length  he  hailed  me  at  the  dinner-table  with  a  package, 
which  he  had  found  with  the  French  Consul.  How  my 
American  letters  could  have  fallen  into  his  hands,  I  can¬ 
not  unravel ;  but  French  Consul  or  American  Consul,  I 
had  received  letters  from  home,  which  for  a  while  made 
me  forget  Jerusalem  and  all  its  hallowed  attractions. 

19* 


222 


OUR  saviour’s  sufferings. 


CHAPTER  X. 


SnnsaUni. 


April  lO^A,  1857.  —  Our  first  night  in  Jerusalem  was 
the  one  in  which  our  Saviour  was  betrayed ;  the  second 
day  was  that  on  which  He  was  crucified.  We  commenced 
our  exploring  privileges  with  an  act  of  worship  in  the 
English  chapel  on  Mount  Zion.  Bishop  Gobat  preached 
a  sermon  on  Luke  23  :  39-44,  in  which  he  portrayed 
with  touching  simplicity  and  fervor  the  nature  of  sin, 
and  the  intensity  of  Christ’s  love,  which  prompted  Him 
thus  to  suffer  for  our  redemption.  I  had  often  heard  the 
same  truths,  but  never  within  the  walls  of  Jerusalem. 
Over  against  yonder  hill  is  the  garden  that  heard  Him 
groan,  and  witnessed  the  betrayer’s  kiss.  From  this 
spot  could  have  been  heard  the  cry  of  the  turbulent  rab¬ 
ble  :  Crucify  him,  crucify  him !  ”  And  over  there  is 
Calvary,  where  He  hung,  ‘‘pierced,”  “forsaken,”  His 
blood  dripping  from  His  wounds  in  heavy  drops  on  the 
earth ;  alone !  alone  !  none  helping  or  confessing  Him ; 
no  soothing  whisper  of  sympathy  or  pity  in  that  dark 
hour  of  trial,  save  the  prayer  of  the  penitent  thief. 
Then  the  thought  that  I  helped  to  pierce  Him  while  He 
endured  all  this  for  me  personally,  though  then  I  was 
not^  was  overpowering.  I  tried  to  mingle  my  praising 
voice  with  the  congregation,  singing  the  familiar  hymns : 
‘‘Hark  the  voice  of  love  and  mercy,”  and  “When  I 


CHURCH  OF  THE  HOLY  SEPULCHRE.  223 

survey  the  wondrous  cross ;  ”  but  I  was  too  near  Cal¬ 
vary  and  the  Cross  for  praise.  I  never  felt  the  power 
of  local  association  so  irresistibly  as  here.  Every  object 
in  the  streets  received  its  coloring  from  the  great  event 
of  the  day.  The  multitude  of  pilgrims  thronging  around 
the  Holy  Sepulchre,  with  their  picturesque  costumes, 
called  to  mind  the  crowd  of  Jewish  pilgrims  that  were  at 
Jerusalem  at  the  Crucifixion.  The  Turkish  soldiers  at 
the  gate  of  the  city  called  up  images  of  the  Roman 
“soldiers”  which  nailed  the  Saviour  to  the  Cross,  and 
parted  his  garments.  In  the  afternoom  there  was  a 
service  in  the  English  chapel,  where  three  Jewish  con¬ 
verts  were  baptized.  “  Beginning  at  Jerusalem,”  the 
Saviour  commanded  just  before  He  took  His  final  depart¬ 
ure  from  it. 

Toward  evening  we  went  to  the  church  of  the  Holy 
Sepulchre  —  a  very  large  building,  erected  over  the  sup¬ 
posed  site  of  Christ’s  crucifixion  and  burial.  A  stairway 
from  the  main  street  leads  one  down  into  a  court  in  front 
of  the  church.  On  ordinary  days  this  was  crowded  with 
persons  selling  trinkets  carved  out  of  shells  and  wood 
from  sacred  places.  Many  persons  in  and  around  Jeru¬ 
salem  gain  a  living  by  thus  selling  their  year’s  labor  to 
the  pilgrims.  The  pavement  was  covered  with  their 
merchandise,  and  their  noisy  traflSc  reminded  me  of 
“  them  that  bought  and  sold,”  whom  the  Saviour  drove 
out  of  the  Temple,  because  they  made  his  “  Father’s 
house  a  house  of  merchandise.”  Even  the  tables  of  the 
money-changers  are  here,  where  a  sort  of  brokers  and 
shavers  furnish  pilgrims  with  Turkish  money  for  theirs 
brought  from  other  parts  of  the  globe.  Matt.  21  :  12. 
The  Mohammedans  never  allow  anything  of  this  kind  to 
profane  their  places  of  worship.  Immediately  after  en- 


224 


THE  ‘‘stone  of  unction.” 

tering,  a  flight  of  steps  on  the  right  conducts  up  on  to 
Calvary.  On  the  top  is  a  chapel,  with  a  Mosaic  marble 
pavement.  It  is  about  fifteen  feet  square,  and  formed 
into  two  apartments  by  two  arches  spanning  the  ceiling. 
Under  an  altar  at  the  southern  end  is  a  circular  silver 
plate,  wdth  a  Greek  inscription,  stating  that  the  cross  on 
which  the  Son  of  God  died  stood  on  that  spot.  On  each 
side  of  it  is  another  plate,  marking  the  places  where  the 
crosses  of  the  two  thieves  stood.  The  walls  are  hung 
with  curtains,  behind  which  is  the  natural  rock.  At  one 
place  is  a  crack,  which  tradition  dates  from  the  earth¬ 
quake  at  our  Saviour’s  death,  when  “the  rocks  were 
rent.” 

Neai*  the  foot  of  the  stairs  which  lead  to  Calvary  is  a 
white  marble  slab  in  the  pavement,  called  “  the  stone  of 
unction,”  on  which  the  dead  body  of  our  Lord  was 
anointed  before  his  burial.  Turning  left  around  a  corner 
we  come  beneath  a  large  dome  to  the  Chapel  of  the  Holy 
Sepulchre.  It  is  about  thirty  feet  long,  and  half  as  wide. 
The  throng  of  pilgrims  before  the  small  door  obliged  me 
to  wait  for  my  turn ;  in  the  meanwhile  I  inspected  the 
exterior  of  my  fellow-pilgrims.  Weary^and  penance- 
W'orn  men  and  women  were  crowded  around  me,  some  of 
whose  garments  had  been  worn  into  shreds,  with  sorrow- 
depicted  faces,  over  which  trickled  the  mingled  tears  of 
contrition  and  praise.  One  after  the  other  put  their 
sandals  on  the  little  platform  at  the  low  door,  and 
stooped  their  way  into  the  chapel.  I  bowed  low  through 
the  first  door  into  the  chamber  over  the  spot  where  the 
angel  announced  to  the  women :  “  He  is  not  dead ;  He 
is  risen;  come  see  the  place  where  the  Lord  lay.” 
Creeping  through  another  “strait  gate”  I  reached  a 
email  apartment,  but  so  tightly  packed  with  five  or  six 


THE  SEPULCHRE. 


225 


pilgrims,  that  I  reached  an  erect  standing  posture  with 
considerable  labor.  A  priest  extended  a  bottle  of  sweet- 
scented  rose-water  over  the  crowd,  and  perfumed  my 
hands.  The  Sepulchre  is  six  feet  long,  three  feet  wide, 
and  two  feet  high.  On  the  top  is  a  horizontal  marble 
slab,  of  a  reddish  rosy  tinge.  This  is  composed  of  two 
nieces ;  the  Latin  and  Greek  Christians,  jealous  of  their 
mutual  rights  to  the  Saviour’s  grave,  insisted  each  on 
owning  half  of  it.  And  this  is  said  to  cover  “  the  grave 
hewn  out  of  the  rock”  in  wLich  Joseph  of  Arimathea 
laid  our  Lord.  Thirty  or  forty  silver  lamps  hang  from 
the  ceiling,  burning  night  and  day.  The  pilgrims  pros¬ 
trated  themselves  before  the  tomb,  and  kissed  the  marble 
slab.  Some  of  them  trembled  with  emotion,  and  prayed 
like  men  wLo  are  engaged  in  an  earnest  work.  Whether 
theirs  may  be  the  right  method,  in  all  respects,  to  pro¬ 
cure  pardon,  it  is  not  for  me  to  say ;  hut  men  capable 
of  such  intensity  of  devotion  and  arduous  endurance  for 
their  soul’s  sake,  should  not  he  lightly  spoken  of. 

Next  we  come  to  the  pillar  of  flagellation,  to  which 
our  Saviour  was  tied  when  he  was  scourged.  A  small 
door  in  the  wall,  near  the  floor  of  an  elevated  platform, 
barely  large  enough  to  put  head  and  shoulder  through, 
admits  one  to  this  relic  of  a  column.  It  is  said  only 
half  of  the  original  pillar  is  here,  the  other  being  at 
Rome.  A  large  monk  stood  by  it  to  check  the  clamorous 
hurry  of  the  pilgrims.  To  get  the  head  into  the  hole, 
one  is  compelled  to  kneel,  and  of  course  will  be  expected 
to  kiss  the  pillar — a  part  of  the  ceremony  which  I  felt  at 
liberty  to  omit. 

In  a  separate,  damp  chamber  is  a  small  tomb  exca¬ 
vated  out  of  the  rock  —  the  grave  of  Joseph  of  Arima¬ 
thea.  In  their  pious  efforts  to  localize  every  little  inci- 

p 


PROCESSION  OF  THE  FRANCISCANS. 


dent  in  our  Saviour’s  life,  and  that,  too,  so  conveniently 
as  to  group  many  of  them  under  the  same  roof,  the 
authors  of  these  well-meant  inventions  have  here  pro¬ 
duced  a  confusion  which  is  very  embarrassing  to  think¬ 
ing  minds.  It  is  not  very  probable  that  Pilate’s  hall, 
Calvary,  and  the  Sepulchre,  were  originally  so  close 
together.  Still,  it  matters  little  whether  Christ  expired 
here,  or  500  yards  off ;  once  you  are  so  near  the  eventful 
spot,  you  feel  content  to  enjoy  the  general  and  more 
essential  features  of  the  scene,  without  cavilling  about 
minor  points. 

I  remained  to  witness  the  annual  procession  of  the 
Franciscans,  commemorative  of  the  death  and  burial  of 
our  Saviour.  At  8  p:  m.  priests  in  white  robes,  pilgrims, 
and  monks,  formed  into  two  lines  in  one  of  the  chapels 
of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre.  They  carried  a 
wooden  image  of  the  Saviour,  the  size  of  a  half-grown 
boy.  A  choir  of  boys  led  the  procession  through  a  cir¬ 
cular  passage  toward  Calvary.  At  short  intervals  the 
procession  stopped,  when  one  of  the  monks,  ascending  a 
niche  in  the  wall,  addressed  the  crowd  ;  for  such  by  this 
time  it  was,  a  heap  of  human  beings  so  tightly  packed, 
that  hardly  a  limb  could  be  moved.  With  the  aid  of  a 
guide  I  worked  myself  to  an  elevated  position  in  advance 
of  the  procession,  so  as  to  see  it  pass.  Each  address 
successively  was  in  a  different  language  —  Spanish, 
French,  Italian,  English,  German,  and  Arabic.  The 
boys  were  all  dressed  in  white,  each  bearing  a  burning 
taper  in  his  hand.  At  the  end  of  every  address  they 
raised  an  anthem  with  clear,  clarion  voices,  sweet  as 
seraphs,  treading  with  slow  and  solemn  step  toward  ‘‘the 
place  of  skulls.”  Then  the  deep  sepulchral  voices  of 
the  monks  responded  in  the  distant  rear,  rolling  up 


A  SOLEMN  SCENE. 


227 


through  the  vast  building  their  deep,  solemn,  ringing 
bass  tones,  with  an  effect  such  as  the  best  church  music 
in  Italy  never  produced  on  me.  There  was  a  plaintive 
melancholy  pathos,  sad,  yet  joyful,  like  swan  songs  of 
departing  spirits,  in  those  little  cherub  singers,  which 
kindled  inexpressible  yearnings  after  the  Better  Land. 
The  monks  passed  before  me  in  solemn  tread,  with  shaven 
heads  and  flowing  beards,  their  faces  pale,  and  furrowed 
by  austere  self-mortifying  habits,  each  with  a  lighted 
candle  in  his  hand,  uniting  their  deep,  hollow  voices  in  a 
responsive  chorus  of  courage  and  hope  to  the  sweet  com¬ 
plaints  of  the  trembling  tender  lambs  —  the  w'hole  pre¬ 
senting  the  most  unearthly  scene  my  eyes  ever  beheld. 

A  large  number  of  Turkish  soldiers  were  distributed 
through  the  church  to  preserve  order.  As  the  proces¬ 
sion  approached  the  narrow  stairway  of  Calvary,  the 
dense  crowd  drifted  around  it ;  and  when  the  foremost 
attempted  to  ascend,  a  simultaneous  push  from  the  mass 
blocked  up  the  passage.  Turkish  soldiers  dashed  into 
the  crowd,  their  long  swords  rattling  on  the  pavement, 
pulling  and  flinging  strong  men  away  like  so  many  sticks 
of  wood.  Like  a  wild  channel  rushing  down  hill  toward 
an  outlet,  so  they  rushed  and  jammed  into  that  door. 
The  great  wonder  was  that  the  soldiers  could  move  a 
limb  in  such  a  tightly-packed  mass ;  but  they  wildly 
dashed  and  tore  about  at  their  work  with  most  determi¬ 
nate  energy.  I  had  my  fears  that  some  would  never  get 
out  of  the  church  alive.  Of  course  but  a  fraction  of  this 
multitude  could  aspire  to  a  standing  spot  on  Calvary. 
My  ingenious  guide  worked  me  up  by  another  flight  of 
steps  on  the  opposite  side,  just  in  time  for  the  ceremony 
of  crucifixion.  As  the  cross  was  laid  on  the  floor  when 
the  image  was  nailed  on  it,  but  few  could  see  the  cere- 


228  CEREMONY  OF  THE  CRUCIFIXION. 

mony.  After  tliis  it  was  raised,  near  the  plate  marking 
the  original  spot,  while  a  Capuchin  monk,  in  a  coarse 
brown  cloak  and  hood,  addressed  the  crowd  in  German. 
He  alluded  to  the  battle-fields  of  earth’s  heroes  and  con¬ 
querors,  and  their  grand  victories.  “  But  here  was  the 
battle-field  of  the  Hero  of  heroes,  and  the  Conqueror  of 
conquerors.  Here  on  Calvary  the  Prince  of  Darkness, 
who  had  filled  the  earth  with  slaughtered  millions,  was 
conquered  by  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  the  Son  of  God.  We 
stand  here  to-night  to  celebrate  His  victory  gained  on 
this  spot.”  He  then,  in  simple  language,  depicted  the 
scene  of  His  suffering;  how,  exhausted  by  the  cruelty  of 
His  foes,  He  was  compelled  to  hear  His  cross  up  this 
hill,  and,  too  weak  to  hear  it,  sank  beneath  it.  And 
then  how  the  nails  were  driven  through  His  nerve-tis¬ 
sued  body,  and  He  expired  on  the  cross.  This  was 
spoken  by  a  monk  on  Calvary.  God  bless  him  for  his 
words  of  truth ! 

The  procession  then  passed  to  the  right  of  the  altar, 
and  took  the  image  from  the  cross.  A  ladder  was  raised 
against  it,  and  pieces  of  linen  passed  over  the  cross¬ 
beam  and  under  the  arms  so  as  to  let  it  down  gradually 
when  loose.  Then  came  two  monks  in  coarse  raiment, 
representing  Joseph  of  Arimathea  and  Nicodemus,  who 
had  shown  kindness  to  the  dead  body  of  Christ.  One 
ascended  the  ladder  and  reached  over  the  cross-beam  and 
pulled  a  long  nail  out  of  the  right  hand  with  pinchers ; 
after  slowly  waving  it  before  the  crowd  he  kissed  it  and 
descended  ;  then  the  other  drew  out  the  nail  of  the  right 
hand  in  the  same  way.  Another  monk  closed  the  cere¬ 
mony  on  Calvary  with  a  French  address. 

During  the  press  and  push  of  the  crowd  in  this  small 
place  I  got  mixed  up  with  the  procession.  As  nature 


7 


A  SURPRISE. 


220 


had  elevated  my  head  higher  than  those  of  my  fellows, 
and  yet  sometimes  not  quite  high  enough,  I  found  it 
necessary  to  raise  on  the  toes  so  as  to  get  a  distinct  view. 
By  this  unmannerly  means,  however,  it  seems  I  stood  in 
the  light  of  a  German  priest  at  my  elbow,  who  made  up 
in  fresh  portly  proportions  what  he  lacked  in  height.  In  ' 
a  gruff  tone  of  voice  he  addressed  me  :  “  Nu,  sind  Sie 
nicht  grosz  genug  ?  Lassen  Sieandere  auch  etwas  sehen.” 
(Ho,  there,  are  you  not  tall  enough  yet  ?  Give  others  a 
chance  to  see  something,  too.)  I  stepped  out  of  his  light 
and  apologized  with  an  “ Entschuldigen  Siemich,”  (Excuse 
me,  sir.)  “Ach  Gott,”  he  exclaimed,  with  evident  confu¬ 
sion,  “Ich  bitte  umYerzeihung.  Ich  wuste nicht dasz  Sie 
Deutsch  verstiinden.  Sind  Sie  nicht  ein  Englander  ? 
(Oh  !  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  did  not  think  that  you  could 
understand  German.  Are  you  not  an  Englishman  ?)  He 
several  times  repeated  his  apology,  and  ever  after  hailed 
me  kindly  as  a  fellow-pilgrim  to  the  Holy  Sepulchre. 

At  the  close  of  the  service,  the  image  was  wrapped  in 
‘‘a  clean  linen  cloth”  and  carried  down  to  ‘Hhe  stone 
of  unction,”  on  which  the  Patriarch,  or  head  of  the  Fran 
ciscans  in  the  East,  anointed  it  with  oil  taken  from  a 
silver  vase.  An  Arab  monk  then  climbed  to  a  niche  in  the 
■wall  and  delivered  an  Arabic  address.  A  thin  cord  girded 
his  coarse  cloak,  and  his  antique  Arab  face,  violent  ges¬ 
tures,  and  fiery  impassionate  speech,  reminded  me  of  St. 
Anthony  just  emerged  from  his  hermit  solitude.  The 
numerous  lights  borne  by  pilgrims  filled  the  church  with 
smoke,  through  which  the  vast  multitude  was  but  dimly 
seen.  Crowds  were  hanging  to  the  walls,  looking  down 
from  galleries,  niches,  and  grated  windows,  and  a  sea  of 
turbaned  heads  waved  over  the  pavement  below.  The 
procession  then  proceeded  to  the  ceremony  of  burial  at 
20 


280 


MIRACLE  OF  THE  HOLY  FIRE. 


the  Sepulchre,  and  I  to  my  lodgings  for  rest.  Thus  I 
have  given  my  simple  story  of  this  pageant  of  good  and 
evil.  Save  the  wrangling  to  ascend  Calvary,  I  could  not 
see  much  more  confusion  than  one  would  naturally  ex¬ 
pect  from  such  a  compound  of  Latins,  Greeks,  Jews, 
Arabs,  and  Turks.  There  was  much  tobacco  smoking  by 
the  Turkish  soldiers  in  the  clmrch  at  the  start,  but  this 
afterward  ceased.  The  whole  was  a  swarming  buzzing 
hive  of  human  beings,  who,  from  motives  of  curiosity  or 
religion,  were  bent  on  worshipping  at  a  sacred  shrine 
regardless  of  the  comfort  or  peace  of  one  another. 

The  Greek  Christians  commemorate  the  Crucifixion  at 
a  later  day,  when  the  miracle  of  the  Holy  Fire  is  annually 
performed.  As  I  knew  what  shocking  scenes  usually 
transpire  during  this  ceremony,  I  was  unwilling  to  dese¬ 
crate  with  my  presence  a  place  which  many  thousands 
revere  as  the  identical  tomb  of  the  Saviour.  The  legend 
runneth  thus :  On  a  certain  Easter  Eve  the  lamps  and 
candles  in  the  church  were  suddenly  extinguished,  and  in 
spite  of  many  efforts  could  not  be  relighted.  Then  fire 
fell  from  Heaven  in  answer  to  the  prayers  of  the  priests, 
which  lit  all  the  lights  again.  And  this  miracle,  the 
Greeks  say,  is  repeated  on  the  same  hour  every  year,  in 
answer  to  the  prayers  of  the  bishops.  Not  being  present 
at  this  farcical  comedy,  I  can  do  no  better  than  give 
Stanley’s  graphic  description  of  the  whole  transaction  : 

“  The  chapel  of  the  sepulchre  rises  from  a  dense  mass 
of  pilgrims,  who  sit  or  stand  wedged  around  it ;  whilst 
round  them,  and  between  another  equally  dense  mass, 
which  goes  round  the  walls  of  the  church  itself,  a  lane 
is  formed  by  two  lines,  or  rather  two  circles  of  Turkish 
soldiers  stationed  to  keep  order.  For  the  spectacle 
which  is  about  to  take  place,  nothing  can  he  better  suited 


A  SINGULAR  CEREMONIAL. 


231 


than  the  form  of  the  rotunda,  giving  galleries  above  for 
the  spectators,  and  an  open  space  below  for  the  pilgrims 
and  their  festival.  For  the  first  two  hours  everything 
’s  tranquil.  Nothing  indicates  what  is  coming,  except 
that  two  or  three  pilgrims  who  have  got  close  to  the 
aperture  through  which  the  fire  is  handed  to  those  out¬ 
side,  keep  their  hands  fixed  in  it  with  a  clench  never 
relaxed.  It  is  about  noon  that  this  circular  lane  is  sud¬ 
denly  broken  through  by  a  tangled  group  rushing  vio¬ 
lently  round,  till  they  are  caught  by  one  of  the  Turkish 
soldiers.  It  seems  to  be  the  belief  of  the  Arab  Greeks, 
that  unless  they  run  round  the  sepulchre  a  certain  num¬ 
ber  of  times,  the  fire  will  not  come.  Possibly,  also,  there 
is  some  strange  reminiscence  of  the  funeral  games  and  races 
round  the  tomb  of  an  ancient  chief.  Accordingly,  the 
night  before,  and  from  this  time  forward,  for  two  hours,  a 
succession  of  gambols  takes  place,  which  an  Englishman 
can  only  compare  to  a  mixture  of  prisoners’  base,  foot¬ 
ball,  and  leapfrog,  round  and  round  the  Holy  Sepulchre. 
First,  he  sees  these  tangled  masses  of  twenty,  thirty, 
fifty  men,  starting  in  a  run,  catching  hold  of  each  other, 
lifting  one  of  themselves  on  their  shoulders,  sometimes 
on  their  heads,  and  rushing  on  with  him  till  he  leaps  off, 
and  some  one  else  succeeds ;  some  of  them  dressed  in 
sheep  skins,  some  almost  naked ;  one  usually  preceding 
the  rest  as  a  fugleman,  clapping  his  hands,  to  which  they 
respond  in  like  manner,  adding  also  wild  howls,  of  which 
the  chief  burden  is,  ‘  This  is  the  tomb  of  Jesus  Christ  — 
God  save  the  Sultan.’  ‘Jesus  Christ  has  redeemed  us.’ 
What  begins  in  the  lesser  groups  soon  grows  in  magni¬ 
tude  and  extent,  till  at  last  the  whole  of  the  circle  be¬ 
tween  the  troops  is  continuously  occupied  by  a  race,  a 
whirl,  a  torrent  of  these  wild  figures,  like  the  Witches’ 


232 


THE  PKOCESSION  BROKEN. 

Sabbath  in  ‘Faust,’  wheeling  round  the  sepulchre. 
Gradually  the  frenzy  subsides  or  is  checked ;  the  course 
is  cleared,  and  out  of  the  Greek  Church  on  the  east  of 
the  rotunda,  a  long  procession  with  embroidered  banners, 
supplying  in  their  ritual  the  want  of  images,  begins  to 
defile  round  the  sepulchre. 

“From  this  moment  the  excitement,  which  has  before 
been  confined  to  the  runners  and  dancers,  becomes  uni¬ 
versal.  Hedged  in  by  the  soldiers,  the  two  huge  masses 
of  pilgrims  still  remain  in  their  places,  all  joining,  how¬ 
ever,  in  a  wild  succession  of  yells,  through  which  are 
caught  from  time  to  time  strangely,  almost  afiectingly, 
mingled,  the  chants  of  the  procession — the  solemn  chants 
of  the  Church  of  Basil  and  Chrysostom,  mingled  with 
the  yells  of  savages.  Hence  the  procession  paces  round  ; 
at  the  third  time,  the  two  lines  of  Turkish  soldiers  join 
and  fall  in  behind.  One  great  movement  sways  the 
multitude  from  side  to  side.  The  crisis  of  the  day  is 
now  approaching.  The  presence  of  the  Turks  is  believed 
to  prevent  the  descent  of  the  fire,  and  at  this  point  it  is 
that  they  are  driven,  or  consent  to  be  driven,  out  of  the 
church.  In  a  moment  the  confusion,  as  of  a  battle  and 
a  victory,  pervades  the  church.  In  every  direction,  the 
raging  mob  bursts  in  upon  the  troops,  who  pour  out  of 
the  church  at  the  south-east  corner ;  the  procession  is 
broken  through,  the  banners  stagger  and  waver.  They 
stagger,  and  waver,  and  fall,  amidst  the  flight  of  priests, 
bishops,  and  standard-bearers,  hither  and  thither  before 
the  tremendous  rush.  In  one  small,  but  compact  band, 
the  Bishop  of  Petra  (who  is  on  this  occasion  the  Bishop 
of  “  the  Fire,”  the  representative  of  the  Patriarch)  is 
hurried  to  the  chapel  of  the  sepulchre,  and  the  door  is 
closed  behind  him.  The  whole  church  is  now  one  heaving 


233 


•'  '1 


ORIGIN  OF  THE  HOLY  FIRE. 

sea  of  heads,  resounding  with  an  uproar  which  can  be 
compared  to  nothing  less  than  that  of  the  Guildhall  of 
London  at  a  nomination  for  the  city.  One  vacant  space 
alone  is  left  —  a  narrow  lane  from  the  aperture  on  the 
north  side  of  the  chapel  to  the  wall  of  the  church.  By 
the  aperture  itself  stands  a  priest  to  catch  the  fire ;  on 
each  side  of  the  lane,  so  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  hun¬ 
dreds  of  bare  arms  are  stretched  out  like  the  branches 
of  a  leafiess  forest  —  like  the  branches  of  a  forest  quiver¬ 
ing  in  some  violent  tempest. 

“  In  earlier  and  bolder  times  the  expectation  of  the 
Divine  presence  was  at  this  juncture  raised  to  a  still 
higher  pitch  by  the  appearance  of  a  dove  hovering  above 
the  cupola  of  the  chapel,  to  indicate,  so  Maundrell  was 
told,  the  visible  descent  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  This  extra¬ 
ordinary  act,  whether  of  extravagant  symbolism  or  of 
daring  profaneness,  has  now  been  discontinued  ;  but  the 
belief  still  continues  —  and  it  is  only  from  the  knowledge 
of  that  belief  that  the  full  horror  of  the  scene,  the  intense 
excitement  of  the  next  few  moments,  can  be  adequately 
conceived.  Silent — awfully  silent — in  the  midst  of  this 
frantic  uproar,  stands  the  Chapel  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre. 
If  any  one  could  at  such  a  moment  be  convinced  of  its 
genuineness,  or  could  expect  a  display  of  miraculous 
power,  assuredly  it  would  be  that  its  very  stones  'would 
cry  out  against  the  wild  fanaticism  without,  and  -wretched 
fraud  within,  by  which  it  is  at  that  hour  desecrated.  At 
last  the  moment  comes.  A  bright  flame  as  of  burning 
wood  appears  inside  the  hole  —  the  light,  as  every  edu¬ 
cated  Greek  knows  and  acknowledges,  kindled  by  the 
Bishop  within  —  the  light,  as  every  pilgrim  believes,  of 
the  descent  of  God  himself  upon  the  Holy  Tomb.  Any 
distinct  feature  or  incident  is  lost  in  the  universal  whirl 

20  * 


234 


DISTRIBUTION  OF  THE  FIRE. 


of  excitement  which  envelops  the  church,  as  slowly,  gra¬ 
dually,  the  fire  spreads  from  hand  to  hand,  from  taper 
to  taper,  through  that  vast  multitude  —  till  at  last  the 
whole  edifice  from  gallery  to  gallery,  and  through  the 
area  below,  is  one  wide  blaze  of  thousands  of  burning 
candles.  It  is  now,  according  to  some  accounts,  that  the 
Bishop  or  Patriarch  is  carried  out  of  the  chapel  in  tri¬ 
umph  on  the  shoulders  of  the  people,  in  a  fainting  state, 

‘  to  give  the  impression  that  he  is  overcome  by  the  glory 
of  the  Almighty,  from  whose  immediate  presence  he  is 
believed  to  come.’  It  is  now  that  a  mounted  horseman, 
stationed  at  the  gates  of  the  church,  gallops  off  with  a 
lighted  taper  to  communicate  the  sacred  fire  to  the  lamps 
of  the  Greek  church  in  the  convent  at  Bethlehem.  It  is 
now  that  the  great  rush  to  escape  from  the  rolling  smoke 
and  sufibcating  heat,  and  to  carry  the  lighted  tapers  into 
the  streets  and  houses  of  Jerusalem,  through  the  one 
entrance  to  the  church,  leads  at  times  to  the  violent 
pressure  which  in  1884  cost  the  lives  of  hundreds.  Such 
is  the  Greek  Easter,  the  greatest  moral  argument  against 
the  identity  of  the  spot,  which  it  professes  to  honor, 
stripped  indeed  of  some  of  its  most  revolting  features, 
yet  still,  considering  the  place,  the  time,  and  the  inten¬ 
tion  of  the  professed  miracle,  probably  the  most  offensive 
imposture  to  be  found  in  the  world.” 

Of  course,  the  more  intelligent  are  only  disgusted  with 
this  wicked  imposture,  but  the  great  mass  of  ignorant 
Greeks  believe  it  all  to  be  a  grand  miracle.  Very  large 
sums  are  often  paid  for  a  place  nearest  the  hole  where  the 
fire  is  put  through  by  the  Bishop,  under  the  impression 
that  the  candles  first  lit  have  the  most  miraculous  virtue. 
The  lighted  candle  is  taken  home,  in  the  belief  that  it 
will  shield  them  against  sickness  and  accidents ;  and, 


DECLINE  OF  JERUSALEM. 


235 


finally.^  it  is  sewed  up  into  the  owner’s  shroud,  to  facili¬ 
tate  his  attainment  of  heaven. 

We  need  not  wonder  that  such  a  form  of  Christianity 
is  regarded  with  contempt  and  derision  by  Mohammedans 
in  the  East.  All  that  the  Moslem  knows  about  the  reli¬ 
gion  of  Jesus  he  gets  from  these  and  similar  wrangling 
spectacles,  where  his  pretended  followers  dance  in  savage 
frenzy,  like  howling  dervishes  around  his  reputed  sepul¬ 
chre — more  like  a  pandemonium  than  a  Christian  assem¬ 
bly.  The  Turkish  soldier  chuckles  with  concealed  delight, 
as  he  pitches  into  this  frantic  mass  of  hated  ‘‘infidel” 
foes  with  the  bayonet  or  the  butt-end  of  his  gun. 

Alas  !  that  the  deluded  and  miscalled  followers  of 
Jesus  should  thus  disgrace  his  cause  before  his  enemies, 
in  his  own  city.  Once  Jerusalem  was  the  most  favored 
and  prosperous  city  in  the  world,  'when  “  all  her  ways 
were  pleasantness  and  all  her  paths  were  peace,”  “peace 
was  within  her  walls  and  prosperity  Jn  her  palaces,”  and 
“Jerusalem  -was  the  joy  of  the  whole  earth.”  But  the 
wickedness  of  her  children  has  brought  a  blighting  curse 
on  her.  Her  streets  and  sanctuaries  have  become  the 
theatres  of  unbridled  madness  and  shocking  orgies,  which 
many  heathens  would  be  ashamed  to  commit. 

Poetry  and  piety  have  given  the  name  of  ^‘‘Mount 
Calvary”  to  the  place  of  our  Saviour’s  crucifixion, 
neither  of  which  words  occurs  in  the  original  Scriptures. 
It  is  nowhere  called  a  “mount,”  and  the  word  “Cal¬ 
vary”  in  Luke,  is  the  Latin  translation  (“Calvaria”)  for 
skull,  for  it  was  called  Golgotha  in  Hebrew,  or  the  place 
of  a  skull.  The  scriptural  narrative,  therefore,  does  not 
call  for  a  Mount  Calvary,  any  more  than  for  a  Valley 
of  Calvary.  If  it  w'as  a  “mount,”  as  we  here  find  it, 
the  Bible  nowhere  calls  it  such.  As  to  the  Holy  Sepul- 


236  IDENTITY  CF  THE  HOLY  SEPULCHRE. 


clire,  I  will  not  weary  the  reader  with  the  long  array  of 
evidence  for  and  against  its  identity.  A  spot  consecrated 
by  the  pilgrim  devotions  of  1500  years,  around  which  an 
almost  countless  multitude  has  knelt  in  tearful  contrition, 
in  itself  ought  to  kindle  and  foster  devout  emotions  in  a 
person,  as  I  am  willing  to  confess  it  did  in  me.  That 
many  mistake  the  means  or  occasion  of  devotion  for  its 
cause,  does  not  alter  the  matter.  A  spot  around  which 
so  many  hearts  have  poured  out  their  penitent  sin-sor¬ 
rows  into  the  Ear  of  the  All-Merciful,  becomes  to  me  a 
Holy  Place.  The  Saviour  “is  not  here,  but  is  risen,” 

nor  can  I  believe  that  He  ever  was  buried  in  this  re- 

0 

puted  “  sepulchre.”  If  God  took  such  precaution  against 
the  idolatrous  Hebrews  as  to  hide  the  “sepulchre”  of 
Moses,  we  may  at  least  suppose  that  the  empty  tomb  of 
Him  whom  alone  we  ought  to  worship  and  serve,  would 
be  equally  hidden  by  the  Divine  care.  For  once  I  felt 
thankful  to  disbelieve.  For  to  me  it  is  a  shocking 
thought  that  the  tomb  of  the  Prince  of  Peace,  whose 
mission  pre-eminently  was  to  bring  “  Peace  on  earth  and 
good  will  among  men,”  should  have  become  the  rallying- 
point  and  frequently  the  occasion  for  strife  and  cruel  war. 
All  the  sects  which  existed  before  the  Reformation  have 
their  chapels  and  altars  here.  Latins,  Greeks,  Copts, 
Syrians,  Georgians,  Armenians,  tenaciously  cleave  to 
this  spot,  and  eye  each  other  with  rancor  and  bitter  hate 
as  they  engage  in  their  respective  services.  Around 
this  tomb  the  armies  of  the  Crusades  jostled  about  in 
deadly  conflict  to  get  possession  of  it.  It  has  drained 
Europe  of  its  strength  and  chivalrous  manhood,  and  made 
the  Holy  Land  a  theatre  of  misery  and  bloodshed. 

It  arrayed  the  Christian  nations  of  Europe  against  the 
East.  When  the  Crusaders  captured  Jerusalem  the 


HISTOilY  OF  THE  SEPULCHRE. 


237 


Greek  Church  was  expelled  from  the  Holy  Places. 
After  possessing  it  for  awhile  the  Mohammedan  or  East- 
ern  powers  again  recaptured  it.  The  Greek  Church  had 
sustained  a  defeat  when  the  Crusaders  captured  Constanti¬ 
nople,  which  was  then  its  metropolis.  Then  already 
Christendom  was  heaving  with  intestine  conflicts ;  the 
Latin  or  Roman  was  arrayed  in  antagonism  against  the 
Greek  or  Eastern  Church.  The  latter  then,  as  now, 
was  measurably  the  national  and  native  Church  of  Pales¬ 
tine.  This  gave  it  the  first  chance  to  regain  from  the 
Turks  its  share  in  the  Sanctuaries  or  Holy  Places  of 
which  the  Crusaders  had  deprived  it.  Subsequently  the 
Latins  came  in  again  for  their  share.  When  they  found 
that  the  Greeks  had  possession  of  the  ante-chamber  or 
outer  chapel  of  the  Sepulchre,  they  seized  the  Tomb 
itself,  and  now  worship  in  its  small  sanctuary.  The 
Turks  still  hold  Jerusalem,  and  by  sulferance  allow  these 
wrangling,  jealous  Christians  to  occupy  Calvary  and  the 
Sepulchre.  But  the  old  war  between  Christianity  and 
Mohammedanism  has  long  since  passed  over  upon  the 
two  great  divisions  of  ancient  Christianity  —  the  Roman 
and  Greek  Churches.  These  sectarian  feuds  around  the 
Sepulchre  are  still  backed  by  kings  '  and  emperors. 
Russia  is  the  great  leading  power  of  the  Eastern  or 
Greek  Church  ;  France,  England,  and  as  many  other 
European  powers  as  policy  may  dictate,  are  the  pretended 
champions  of  the  Roman  or  Western  Church.  The  great 
question  to  this  day  is,  which  shall  have  the  Holy  Sepul¬ 
chre.  It  is  well  known  that  the  strife  for  precedence  on 
this  supposed  holy  spot  gave  an  occasion  for  the  late  war 
with  Russia  in  the  Crimea.  The  roof  of  the  large  dome 
surmounting  the  Chapel  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  is  now 
very  much  out  of  repair.  The  water  has  been  leaking 


238  SITE  OF  Solomon’s  temple. 

tbrougli  for  years,  threatening  greatly  to  injure  the  build¬ 
ing.  If  Russia  or  France  dares  to  touch  the  dilapidating 
hole  with  hammer  or  trowel,  they  will  establish  a  right ; 
for  if  a  man  repairs  a  roof  on  a  building  in  the  East,  he 
creates  a  claim  to  it.  Here  the  East  and  West  are  look¬ 
ing  at  this  leak  with  sleepless  vigilance  and  with  uplifted 
sceptres,  backed  by  millions  of  warriors,  defiantly  warn 
each  other  not  to  stop  the  leakage,  though  it  cause 
the  vast  building  to  crumble  to  the  earth.  It  is  rapidly 
increasing,  and  loudly  calls  for  repair.  This  day  the 
eyes  of  the  mightiest  kingdoms  and  empires  of  the  earth 
are  looking  to  Jerusalem  as  the  fruitful  source  of  another 
war.  It  is  acknowledged  on  all  sides  that  the  roof  should 
be  repaired,  but  whether  it  can  be  done  without  strewing 
the  earth  with  slaughtered  armies,  the  future  alone  can 
show.  0  what  a  commentary  on  human  nature,  that  a 
spot  revered  as  the  grave  of  the  adorable  Son  of  God 
should  be  perverted  into  a  fountain  of  strife  and  an  occa¬ 
sion  for  human  misery ! 

April  Hth. — Ahmed  took  us  on  the  roof  of  the  Gov¬ 
ernor’s  house,  where  we  had  a  view  of  the  site  of  Solo¬ 
mon’s  temple.  The  Mosque  (temple)  of  Omar  covers  the 
spot  —  a  most  magnificent  structure.  Next  to  Mecca, 
this  is  the  most  sacred  spot  of  which  Mohammedanism 
boasts  ;  it  has  only  one  mosque  which  excels  this  in 
splendor.  There  is  still  a  wall  around  it,  as  there  was 
in  ancient  times,  with  gates  through  which  only  Moham¬ 
medans  are  allowed  to  pass.  This  wall  is  about  500 
yards  long  and  318  broad,  forming  a  large  grassy  area, 
with  a  few  cypress  trees,  around  the  mosque.  To  the 
south  of  it,  in  the  same  enclosure,  is  the  smaller  Mosque 
of  El-Aksa.  The  whole  court  has  the  air  of  a  cheerful 


THE  MOSQUE  OF  OMAR. 


239 


park,  which  on  Friday,  the  Mohammedan  Sabbath,  is 
covered  with  groups  of  men  and  women. 

The  Mosque  of  Omar  was  built  about  1200  years  ago. 
In  modern  times  but  few  Christians  have  been  allowed  to 
enter  its  famous  precincts.  Three  American  friends, 
with  whom  I  had  the  pleasure  to  travel  in  Italy  and 
Egypt,  had  the  rare  good  fortune  to  gain  admission 
about  a  month  before  we  reached  Jerusalem.  Bishop 
Gohat  and  the  English  Consul  made  up  a  party,  and 
with  the  aid  of  a  liberal  hucksheesh,  explored  the  whole 
building.  On  an  elevated  platform,  in  the  centre  of  the 
area,  stands  the  charming  mosque,  a  large  octagonal 
building.  At  each  corner  is  a  door  leading  through  a 
vestibule  into  the  interior  place  of  worship.  Fifty-two 
windows  admit  the  light  through  its  white  walls,  and  six¬ 
teen  columns  support  the  large  dome,  lifting  its  vast  pro¬ 
portions  high  above  the  earth.  The  lower  walls  on  the 
outside  are  of  marble ;  higher  up  it  is  covered  with  white, 
yellow,  green,  and  blue  tiles,  containing  inscriptions  from 
the  Koran,  which  give  it  a  singular  variegated  coloring. 
The  dome,  likewise  roofed  with  many-colored  tiles,  rises 
ninety  feet  above  the  pavement,  and  is  forty  feet  in 
diameter.  Under  the  centre  of  this  dome  is  a  rock,  the 
summit  of  Moriah,  on  which  Abraham  was  commanded  to 
offer  Isaac,  and  over  which  the  original  temple  of  Solo« 
mon  stood.  Gen.  22.  “It  is  irregular  in  its  form,  and 
measures  about  sixty  feet  in  one  direction,  and  fifty  in 
the  other.  It  projects  about  five  feet  above  the  marble 
pavement,  and  the  pavement  of  the  mosque  is  about 
twelve  feet  above  the  level  of  the  enclosure,  making  this 
rise  seventeen  feet  above  the  ground.  ...  It  ap¬ 
pears  to  be  the  natural  surface  of  Mount  Moriah ;  in  a 
few  places  there  are  marks  of  chiselling ;  at  its  south- 


240 


A  FOUNTAIN  IN  THE  TEMPLE. 


east  corner  is  an  excavated  chamber,  to  which  there  is  a 
descent  by  a  flight  of  stone  steps.  This  chamber  is  irre¬ 
gular  in  form,  and  its  superficial  area  is  about  600  feet ; 
the  average  height  seven  feet.  In  the  centre  of  the 
rocky  cave  there  is  a  circular  slab  of  marble,  which  being 
struck  makes  a  hollow  sound,  thereby  showing  that  there 
is  a  well  or  excavation  beneath.’' 

It  has  now  been  ascertained,  with  considerable  cer¬ 
tainty,  that  there  is  a  living  spring  or  well  beneath  this 
temple  vault.  The  two  pools  of  Siloam,  at  the  southern 
slope  of  Mount  Zion,  get  their  water  from  here  through 
subterranean  aqueducts ;  so  that  Milton  was  correct  when 
he  wrote  of 

“  Siloa’s  brook  that  flowed 
Fast  by  the  oracle  of  God.^^ 

This  living  fountain  in  the  concealed  heart  of  the  tem¬ 
ple  explains  a  number  of  significant  Scriptural  allusions. 
‘‘  There  is  a  river,  the  streams  whereof  shall  make  glad 
the  city  of  God,  the  holy  place  of  the  tabernacle  of  the 
Most  High.”  Psalm  46  :  4.  ‘‘All  my  springs  are  in 
thee.”  Psalm  87  :  7.  “Draw  water  out  of  the  wells  of 
salvation.”  Isaiah  12  :  3.  “In  that  day  there  shall  be  a 
fountain  opened  to  the  house  of  David,  and  to  the  inhabit¬ 
ants  of  Jerusalem,  for  sin  and  uncleanness.”  Zech.  13  : 
1.  And  in  Ezekiel’s  vision  the  fountain  was  made  to  gush 
up  “  from  under  the  right  side  of  the  altar,”  which  stood 
over  it,  and  ran  out  under  the  threshold  eastward, 
swelled  into  a  river  running  along  the  winding  Kedron 
to  the  valley  of  the  Dead  Sea,  making  the  sand  fertile, 
and  healing  its  deadly  waters,  scattering  life  in  its  track, 
“because  their  waters  they  issued  out  of  the  sanctuary.” 
Ezek.  47.  No  figure  could  be  more  expressive,  in  a 


ornan’s  threshing-floor. 


241 


prophetic  description  of  the  influence  of  Christ’s  Incar¬ 
nation,  than  this.  And  the  source  of  the  living  fountain  ' 
is  very  significant.  It  springs  from  under  the  altar  in 
the  tenifle ;  the  region  through  which  it  runs  is  without 
life,  treeless,  wheatless,  and  dreary,  in  which  the  water 
strew’s  life  and  good  cheer,  just  as  the  fountain  and 
stream  of  Christianity,  opened  in  the  House  of  David, 
and  by  David’s  son,  scatters  life  through  the  moral 
desert  of  humanity  in  the  world,,  and  heals  the  Dead  Sea 
of  sin.  This  stream  from  Jerusalem  shall  be  perennial. 

And  it  shall  be,  in  that  day,  that  living  waters  shall 
go  out  from  Jerusalem ;  half  of  them  toward  the  former 
sea  (the  Mediterranean),  and  half  of  them  toward  the 
hinder  sea  (the  Dead  Sea)  :  in  summer  and  winter  shall 
it  he.''  Zech.  14  :  8.  These  two  seas  are  both  some 
thirty  miles  from  Jerusalem  —  one  on  the  west,  and  the 
other  on  the  south-east  of  it.  And  finally  the  heavenly 
meaning  of  the  spring  in  the  temple  is  brought  out  most 
distinctly,  when  near  this  fountain,  “  In  the  last  day, 
that  great  day  of  the  feast  [of  tabernacles],  Jesus  stood 
and  cried,  saying ;  If  any  man  thirst,  let  him  come 
unto  me,  and  drink.”  John  7  :  37. 

On  this  rock  was  Oman’s  “threshing-floor,”  over  which 
the  destroying  angel  appeared  to  him,  when  he  and  his 
sons  hid  themselves,  perhaps  in  this  very  cave  under  the 
rock.  Then  David  bought  it  according  to  the  command 
of  the  Lord,  built  an  altar  there,  and  made  it  the  site  for 
Solomon’s  temple.  1  Chron.  21. 

From  the  Governor’s  house  I  passed  out  the  St.  Ste-  ** 
phen’s  gate,  near  the  temple,  down  a  steep  road  over  a 
bridge  across  the  Kedron,  in  poetry  called  “  the  sweet 
flowing  Kedron,”  with  a  “gentle  stream,”  but  even  after 
this  rainy  season  perfectly  dry.  Then  I  passed  Gethse- 

21  Q 


242 


A  PIOUS  PILGRIM. 


mane  up  the  steep  path  of  the  Mount  of  Olives.  On  my 
*  way  I  met  two  simple  pilgrims  from  the  Austrian  Tyrol. 
One  of  them,  an  old  peasant,  was  full  of  gratitude  and 
praise  to  God  for  bringing  him  to  the  Holy  Sepulchre 
before  his  death.  He  said  this  had  been  his  great  desire 
from  early  youth.  He  was  well-read  in  Scripture,  and 
quoted  it  readily.  Speaking  of  confession,  he  said  it  was 
of  little  use  unless  a  man  amend  his  ways,  and  that  he 
can  only  do  by  the  help  of  God.  I  listened  quietly  to  the 
simple  story  of  his  heart,  and  felt  happy  to  believe  that 
he  too  was  a  traveller  to  the  Jerusalem  above.  His  coun¬ 
tenance  beamed  with  'joy  when  I  referred  to  a  pocket 
Testament  to  read  the  sad  story  of  the  Saviour’s  agony 
in  the  Garden,  while  seated  together  right  above  it. 

The  Mount  of  Olives  is  180  feet  higher  than  the  top 
of  Mount  Zion,  the  highest  point  of  Jerusalem.  From  its 
top  the  whole  city  spread  out  to  view  in  all  its  features. 
The  temple  area  extended  along  the  edge  of  the  Valley 
of  Kedron,  then  the  city  sloped  upwards  until  it  culmi¬ 
nated  in  Mount  Zion.  From  this  distance  the  houses  had 
a  white  appearance,  the  mosques  and  minarets  shone 
with  new  lustre,  and  proclaimed  the  faith  of  Jerusalem’s 
rulers.  Twenty-five  miles  eastward  we  saw  the  Jordan 
worming  its  tortuous  course  down  to  the  Dead  Sea. 

The  next  day  was  Easter,  the  Resurrection  day  of  our 
Saviour.  We  attended  services  in  the  church  on  Mount 
Zion.  One  of  the  missionaries  preached  on  Hebrews 
13  :  20,  21.  Two  persons  were  then  ordained  by  the 
Bishop  as  Deacons  in  the  missionary  work,  after  which 
the  communion  of  the  Lord’s  Supper  w'as  administered. 
Not  far  from  here  Jesus  instituted  the  Holy  Supper  under 
the  most  sad  and  solemn  circumstances.  The  intrinsic 
solemnity  of  the  Holy  Sacrament,  and  the  impressive 


CHURCH  SERVICE  ON  MOUNT  ZION.  243 


associations  and  reminiscences  of  the  place,  brought  the 
scene  of  Christ’s  sufferings,  death,  and  resurrection  so 
vividly  before  the  mind,  that  it  was  impossible  for  one  to 
control  his  emotions.  Here,  here,  on  this  hill  our  sins 
Avere  atoned  for,  and  those  of  the  whole  world.  Tears 
w’ere  the  only  relief.  Strong,  unfeeling  men,  whom  I  had 
been  accustomed  to  regard  as  void  of  all  religious  sympa¬ 
thy,  sobbed  out  their  sorrow-burdens,  and  wiped  off  the 
tears  as  they  rolled  fast  over  faces  which  looked  as  if  they 
had  never  felt  a  tear,  and  communed.  At  last  the  native 
members,  —  white-veiled  women,  and  men  with  their  tur¬ 
bans  on,  devoutly  knelt  around  the  altar  to  receive  His 
“  body  broken  ”  and  his  “  cup,”  which  is  the  communion 
of  His  blood.  The  congregation  viSiS  composed  of  per¬ 
sons  from  various  branches  of  the  Protestant  Church  and 
from  all  parts  of  the  Christian  world,  who  came  up  hither 
to  enjoy  communion  with  Christ.  This  worshipping  as¬ 
sembly  of  Christians,  rising  above  partition  walls  and 
denominational  shackles,  whose  hearts  repented,  wept,  and 
prayed  as  one  heart,  presented  a  pleasing  contrast  to  the 
sectarian  strife  in  the  Church  of  the  Sepulchre,  and  also 
to  that  of  Protestant  Christianity  elsewhere.  It  seemed 
like  an  encouraging  type  of  the  union  of  God’s  people  in 
the  Jerusalem  above.  It  was  a  day  of  joy,  for  it  comme¬ 
morated  the  Resurrection  of  the  Saviour.  There  at  Cal¬ 
vary  and  the  Saviour’s  grave  we  sang  :  Jesus  Christ  is 
risen  to-day,”  and,  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  lives,'’ 
hymns  that  express  the  conscious  sense  of  a  risen  living 
Saviour,  which  have  become  a  memorial  of  my  blessed, 
experience  on  this  Easter  at  Jerusalem.  In  the  after¬ 
noon  I  strolled  across  the  Kedron  again,  and  sat  me 
under  an  old  olive  tree,  half-way  up  the  slope  of  Olivet, 
reading  the  24th  chapter  of  Matthew  :  There  shall  not 


244  PARABLE  OF  THE  FIG  TREE. 

be  left  one  stone  upon  another  that  shall  not  he  thrown 
down.”  Our  Saviour’s  prediction  has  been  literally 
fulfilled.  Immediately  before  me  were  a  few  fig-trees, 
with  buds  just  opening  into  leaves,  such  as  the  Saviour 
may  have  pointed  to.  Now  learn  a  parable  of  the  fig 
tree,  When  his  branch  is  yet  tender  and  putteth  forth 
leaveSs  ye  know  that  the  summer  is  nigh.”  v.  32. 

On  my  return  I  met  a  procession  coming  out  of  the 
city  with  tamborines  and  rude  flags,  making  a  clattering 
noise.  Just  as  I  reached  the  St.  Stephen’s  gate,  the 
muezzin  called  to  prayer  from  a  lofty  minaret.  There 
is  no  God  but  God,  and  Mohammed  is  his  prophet,”  rang 
across  the  valley  of  Jehoshaphat,  and  around  the  temple. 
It  was  at  the  ninth  hour  (3  P.  M.),  when  the  evening  ser¬ 
vice  of  the  Jews  used  to  begin  ;  the  hour  when  our  Sa¬ 
viour  said  it  is  finished ;  and  he  bowed  his  head,  and 
gave  up  the  ghost.”  The  blind  man  walked  slowly 
around  the  top  of  his  tower,  perhaps  the  size  of  a  lofty 
furnace  chimney,  within  a  railing,  crying  toward  the 
four  points  of  the  compass,  and  calling  the  followers  of 
the  Prophet  to  pray  where  Zion  lies  desolate  and  in 
ruins.  We  attended  a  service  on  Mount  Zion  on  a  Sab¬ 
bath  evening,  in  the  Diocesan  school  room.  While  kneel¬ 
ing  in  prayer,  with  full  and  devout  hearts,  suddenly  the 
shrill  voice  fell  upon  us  again  from  a  neighbouring  mina¬ 
ret :  “  Allahah  il  Allah  !  ”  as  if  to  thrust  the  futile  claims 
of  Mohammed  upon  us  w^hile  kneeling  around  the  mercy- 
seat  of  Jesus. 


Jerusalem’s  walls. 


•9  1  r, 

it/ 


CHAPTER  XI. 


SnasaUm  nni  ita  lurroaniingB. 


The  present,  like  the  ancient  Jerusalem,  is  surrounded 
by  a  wall,  which  was  built  in  the  16th  century.  It  is 
from  forty  to  fifty  feet  high,  and  has  forty  strong  square 
towers  at  regular  intervals,  after  the  style  of  the  old 
wall.  The  modern  wall  is  very  thick  and  massive,  and 
has  a  strong  breastwork  along  the  outer  edge  on  the  top, 
within  which  is  a  path  to  walk  around  it.  This  breast¬ 
work  is  perforated  with  loop-holes,  through  which  to 
direct  the  guns  at  the  enemy  in  time  of  war.  An¬ 
ciently,  watchmen  were  placed  on  the  wall,  to  watch  and 
herald  the  approach  of  the  enemy,  which  Isaiah  figura¬ 
tively  applies  to  the  Church  and  her  watching  ministers. 
“  I  have  set  watchmen  upon  thy  walls,  0  Jerusalem, 
which  shall  never  hold  their  peace  day  nor  night :  ye 
that  make  mention  of  the  Lord  keep  not  silence.”  Isaiah 
62  :  6.  Robinson  gives  the  length  of  the  wall  around 
the  whole  city  as  being  two  miles  and  a  half.  It  took  mo 
about  an  hour  and  a  quarter  to  walk  around  it,  which  led 
me  to  think  that  it  must  be  longer.  Four  gates  are 
guarded  by  Turkish  soldiers  —  the  .Damascus  gate  on  the 
north,  the  Zion’s  gate  on  the  south,  St.  Stephen’s  gate 
on  the  east,  and  the  Jafla  gate  on  the  west.  Instead  of 
21* 


246  GATES  OF  HEAVENLY  JERUSALEM. 

a  direct  passage  through  these  gates,  the  road  runs  at 
right-angles,  zigzag  fashion,  so  that  no  carriage  or  wagon 
could  pass  through  them.  At  the  sides  are  benches,  fre¬ 
quently  filled  with  tattlers  and  news-loving  loafers. 
“  They  that  sit  in  the  gate  speak  against  me."’  Psalm 
69  :  12.  The  gates  of  towns  and  cities  w’ere  places  of 
concourse  and  counsel.  Lot  sat  in  the  gate  of  Sodom 
when  the  angels  met  him ;  Boaz  sat  him  in  the  gate  of 
Bethlehem  to  consult  with  his  kinsmen,  and  all  the 
people  and  elders  in  the  gate”  were  witnesses  of  his 
generous  act.  Gen.  19:1;  Ruth  4  :  11 ;  2  Sam.  19  :  8 ; 
2  Chron.  18  :  9.  These  gates  are  opened  at  sunrise,  and 
closed  at  sunset.  All  the  inhabitants  of  Jerusalem  live 
within  the  walls,  save  a  few  semi-savages  that  dwell  in 
caves  and  huts  at  Siloam,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
valley  of  Jehoshaphat. 

The  robbers  render  it  unsafe  for  any  one  to  remain 
outside  over  night.  But  when  the  gates  are  closed 
at  evening,  they  that  are  without  must  remain  without. 
Thus,  the  earthly  Jerusalem  is  still  a  figure  of  the  hea¬ 
venly.  Once  the  heavenly  gates  are  closed,  there  will 
he  no  more  admission.  Then,  “he  that  is  unjust,  let 
him  be  unjust  still ;  and  he  that  is  filthy,  let  him  be 
filthy  still ;  and  he  that  is  righteous,  let  him  be  righteous 
still;  and  he  that  is  holy,  let  him  be  holy  still.”  Blessed 
are  they  that  “  enter  in  through  the  gates  of  the  city. 
For  without  are  dogs,  and  sorcerers,  and  whoremongers, 
and  murderers,  and  idolaters,  and  whosoever  loveth  and 
maketh  a  lie.”  Rev.  22  :  11  and  15.  Thus,  at  each  set¬ 
ting  sun  the  believer  is  reminded  of  the  closing  of  Hea¬ 
ven’s  gates  at  the  sunset  of  life.  Before  David  took 
Jerusalem,  it  was  already  a  fortified  city,  and  its  strong 
walls  are  to  this  day  an  indispensable  defence  against 


NAEROW  STREETS. 


247 


the  plundering  Bedouins  and  robbers  of  the  surrounding 
villages,  as  well  as  against  hyenas,  hungry  dogs,  and 
devouring  beasts. 

The  area  of  the  city  is  divided  into  sections  by  eleva¬ 
tions  or  “  mounts,”  but  all  these  again  are  on  one  moun¬ 
tain.  Mount  Zion  is  the  highest,  and  was  the  fortified 
place,  or  stronghold  of  Zion,  which  David  took  from  the 
Jebusites,  and  called  it  The  city  of  David.”  2  Sam.  5. 
Declining  eastward,  it  ends  in  a  small  valley  separating 
it  from  Mount  Moriah,  which  is  considerably  lower. 
Northward  are  two  more  elevations.  Mount  Akra  and 
Mount  Bezetha.  These  hills,  all  again  sloping  toward 
the  valley  of  Kedron,  give  the  holy  city  an  uneven  sur¬ 
face.  The  streets  are  crooked  and  narrow,  and  unevenly 
paved  with  large  stones.  The  strength  of  the  walls  and 
towers,  and  the  beauty  of  the  palaces  of  this  part  of  the 
city,  were  the  pride  of  the  Jewish  nation.  ‘‘Walk  about 
Zion,  and  go  round  about  her ;  tell  the  towers  thereof. 
Mark  ye  well  her  hulwarhs ;  consider  her  palaces  ;  that 
ye  may  tell  it  to  the  generations  following.”  Psalm  48  : 
12-13.  Passing  through  a  certain  part  of  the  city  one 
day,  a  camel  which  got  tired  of  his  burden  and  laid  him¬ 
self  across  the  street,  blocked  up  the  tide  of  people 
therein.  My  night  adventures  abounded  with  collisions', 
now  against  a  projecting  stone  or  the  step  of  a  house, 
then  kicking  upon  a  donkey  or  his  sleeping  master.  Men 
were  stretched  in  the  streets,  asleep  close  along  the 
houses,  heaving  long  deep  breaths,  as  if  on  beds  of  softest 
ease.  One  night  we  attended  religious  services  in  a 
retired  part  of  Mount  Zion.  The  narrow  path  led  us 
through  between  buildings  ov^er  hills,  like  the  recent  ex¬ 
cavations  of  cellars,  all  being  heaps  of  rubbish  and  debris 
of  the  ruined  city.  The  houses  are  built  after  the  usual 


218 


THE  HEAVENLY  GATE. 


Eastern  style,  presenting  only  bare  walls  without  windows 
along  the  street,  with  a  door  leading  to  the  open  court  in 
the  centre,  and  from  this  into  all  the  rooms.  Few  pas¬ 
sages  in  the  Gospel  are  more  frequently  forced  upon  the 
attention  of  the  traveller  than  that  of  the  strait  gate, 
and  the  narrow  way,  in  Matthew  7  :  13-14.  Whether 
you  enter  a  house,  mosque,  or  chapel,  you  must  often 
stoop  very  low  to  pass  through  the  door.  And  the  streets 
of  the  towns  are  often  so  narrow,  that  you  have  to  press 
close  up  to  the  wall  to  allow  a  loaded  camel  to  pass  you ; 
and  sometimes  when  they  have  a  larger  pack  than  usual, 
they  even  stick  fast  between  the  walls  of  the  houses.  So 
those  who  would  enter  the  gate  of  Christ’s  Kingdom, 
must  stoop  in  deep  humility  and  self-abasement;  and 
those  who  would  reach  heaven  are  not  allowed  to  take 
much  of  the  forbidden  and  useless  luggage  of  sinful  plea¬ 
sures  with  them,  or  they  will  be  subject  to  constant 
annoyances,  and  never  get  through  to  the  heavenly  city. 

Because  strait  is  the  gate  and  narrow  is  the  way 
which  leadeth  unto  life,  and  few  there  be  that  find  it.” 
More  easily  entered  is  the  ‘^wide  gate,”  and  more  freely 
travelled  the  ‘‘broad  way,”  but  they  lead  to  the  wrong 
place. 

During  our  visit  to  Jerusalem  the  streets  were  swarming 
with  pilgrims  ;  in  all,  about  15,000  of  these  “strangers” 
were  there.  These  usually  lodge  in  their  respective  con¬ 
vents.  The  few  cafes  —  cofiee-houses  —  were  crowded 
with  them,  sipping  their  tiny  cups,  and  smoking  long 
pipes.  Many  have  a  filthy,  ragged,  and  repulsive  look ; 
some  are  old  and  infirm,  with  whom  a  pilgrimage  is  in¬ 
tended  as  the  crowning  act  of  life.  The  whole  comprises 
a  concourse  of  diverse  people  like  that  of  Pentecost, 
“  Parthians,  Medes,  and  Elamites,  and  the  dwellers  in 


SACKED  LOCALITIES. 


249 


Mesopotamia,  and  in  Judea  and  Cappadocia,  in  Pontus 
and  Asia,  Phrygia  and  Pamphylia  in  Egypt,  and  in  the 
parts  of  Lyhia  about  Cyrene,  and  strangers  of  Rome.” 
Acts  2  :  9-10.  When  these  are  gone,  Jerusalem  is  very 
dull  and  quiet. 

In  the  street  running  from  the  Via  Dolorosa  past  Cal¬ 
vary  towards  the  Jaffa  gate,  are  most  of  the  bazaars, 
Avhere  the  merchant  sits  in  a  large  window  and  sells  to 
purchasers  in  the  street.  The  Via  Dolorosa  extends 
from  near  St.  Stephen’s  gate  on  the  edge  of  Kedron,  up 
the  hill  past  the  Latin  Convent.  It  is  called  the  Way 
of  Sorrow,  because  the  Saviour  is  supposed  to  have  carried 
His  cross  through  it.  An  impression  in  the  wall  is  shown 
where,  fainting  under  His  burden,  He  sank  over  against 
it.  At  another  place  a  chapel  marks  the  spot  where  He 
was  scourged.  Even  the  houses  of  the  rich  man  and 
Lazarus  are  still  pointed  out. 

The  Poets  and  Prophets  of  the  Bible  speak  of  Jerusa¬ 
lem  with  such  rapturous  praise,  that  one  vainly  hopes  to  see 
its  ancient  glory  glimmer  through  its  ruins.  It  is  hard 
to  shake  off  one’s  notions  of  its  former  splendor.  The 
present  walls  doubtless  give  a  pretty  correct  picture  of 
their  predecessors.  We  have  no  reliable  pattern  of  any 
of  the  Jewish  temples,  but  with  the  aid  of  the  Bible  and 
Josephus  we  can  replace  them  with  tolerable  fullness. 
The  latter  tells  us  that  the  temple  of  our  Saviour’s  time 
stood  in  the  midst  of  the  inmost  court  (where  the  Mosque 
of  Omar  now  stands).  Now  the  outward  face  of  the 
temple,  in  its  front,  wanted  nothing  that  was  likely  to 
surprise  either  men’s  minds  or  their  eyes ;  for  it  was 
covered  all  over  with  plates  of  gold  of  great  weight,  and 
at  the  first  rising  of  the  sun,  reflected  back  a  very  fiery 
splendor,  and  made  those  who  forced  themselves  to  look 


250 


ANCIENT  JERUSALEM. 


upon  it  to  turn  their  eyes  away,  just  as  they  would  have 
done  at  the  sun’s  own  rays.  But  this  temple  appeared 
to  strangers,  when  they  were  coming  to  it  at  a  distance, 
like  a  mountain  covered  with  snow;  for  as  to  those  parts 
of  it  that  were  not  gilt  they  were  exceeding  white.” 
Besides,  the  city  had  palaces  fitted  up  in  regal  splendor. 
What  these  looked  like  we  have  no  means  of  ascertaining. 
Certain  it  is  that  they  constituted  the  chief  ornament  of 
the  city,  and  the  most  magnificent  of  them  seem  to  have 
been  on  Mount  Zion.  “  Beautiful  for  situation,  the  joy 
of  the  whole  earth  is  Mount  Zion,  on  the  sides  of  the 
north,  the  city  of  the  great  King.  God  is  known  in  her 
palaces  for  a  refuge.”  Their  splendor  was  the  pride  of 
kings  and  the  evidence  of  Jerusalem’s  greatness  and 
power.  In  the  golden  age  of  the  Jewish  nation  “Peace 
was  within  her  walls,  and  prosperity  within  palaces,’' 
Psalm  122.  These  monuments  of  Beligion  and  Art  have 
all  been  swept  away  in  the  general  ruin  of  the  city.  The 
15,000  inhabitants  of  Jerusalem  live  on  a  heap  of  ruins. 
At  first  sight  it  has  the  appearance  of^all  eastern  cities, 
and  at  a  distance  prettier  than  many  of  them.  But  a 
closer  inspection  reveals  its  true  character,  and  gives  it 
the  appearance  of  a  city  which  has  been  burnt  down  in 
some  great  conflagration.  The  streets  and  dwellings  are 
on  the  ancient  ruins  of  houses,  aqueducts,  pillars  and 
palaces,  at  some  places  from  thirty  to  forty  feet  deep. 
When  the  Protestant  church  on  Mount  Zion  was  built, 
they  had  to  dig  through  forty  feet  of  the  old  mouldering 
city  to  lay  the  foundation.  The  streets  and  buildings  of 
the  ancient  Jerusalem  are  buried  beneath  the  ruins  of 
her  seventeen  captures.  Many  parts  of  the  present  city 
rest  on  the  house-tops  of  its  predecessors,  where  “  The 
stones  of  the  sanctuary  are  poured  out  on  the  top  of  every 


View  from  the  South-East. 


hezekiah’s  pool. 


251 


street.”  Lam.  4  :  1.  ‘‘‘They  have  laid  Jerusalem  on 
heaps.”  Psalm  79  :  1. 

This  accounts  for  the  prevalent  scepticism  respecting 
the  alleged  holy  places  within  the  walls  of  Jerusalem. 
But  a  very  few  of  these  can  he  identified  with  any  de¬ 
gree  of  certainty.  Should  the  city  ever  fall  into  the 
hands  of  Christian  Powers  again,  some  future  enterpris¬ 
ing  Layard  may  excavate  streets,  temples,,  palaces,  and 
dwellings,  —  remains  far  more  curious  and  interesting 
than  even  those  of  Nineveh,  —  and  restore  the  plan  and 
outline  of  the  city  in  her  original  glory. 

One  of  the  few  relics  of  the  Hebrew  age  is  the  pool 
of  Hezekiah,  between  the  Jaffa  gate  and  the  Holy  Sepul¬ 
chre.  A  row  of  houses  hides  it  from  the  street.  We 
passed  through  the  ofiice  of  a  Mohammedan  banker, 
where  a  man  had  a  piece  of  white  linen  spread  on  the 
counter,  on  which  he  performed  his  devotions  without 
being  in  the  least  disturbed  by  our  presence.  Immedi¬ 
ately  in  the  rear  was  the  pool,  measuring  240  feet  one 
way  and  144  the  other.  “Hezekiah  made  a  pool,  and 
a  conduit,  and  brought  water  into  the  city.”  2  Kings 
20  :  20.  “  Hezekiah  also  stopped  the  upper  water¬ 

course  of  Gihon,  and  brought  it  straight  down  to  the 
west  side  of  the  city  of  David.”  2  Chron.  32  :  30.  The 
pools  of  Jerusalem  are  among  the  most  reliable  remains 
of  its  antiquities. 

One  day  we  employed  a  converted  Jew,  who  led  us 
to  a  subterranean  lake  or  basin,  which  he  called  the 
Golden  Well.  We  passed  through  a  miry  stable,  and 
then  down  a  damp,  inclined,  narrow  passage,  winding 
hither  and  thither,  till  we  reached  the  edge  of  the  basin. 
It  contained  sweet  water,  and  as  near  as  I  could  see  by 
the  aid  of  our  dim  tapers  from  the  edge  of  it,  is  from  75 


252 


Jeremiah’s  cave. 


to  100  feet  square.  While  there,  some  one  dropped  a 
bucket  on  its  dark  surface  from  an  unseen  hole  above, 
to  draw  water,  showing  that  it  was  in  use.  Our  guide 
told  us  that  the  wells  and  pools  of  Jerusalem  would  fur¬ 
nish  enough  water  for  any  length  of  time,  in  the  event 
of  another  siege.  But  nearly  all  this  water  is  brought 
from  without,  through  underground  aqueducts.  The 
Mosque  of  Omar  is  supplied  from  the  pools  of  Solomon, 
and  the  pool  of  Hezekiah  from  the  upper  pool  of  Gihon. 
To  obstruct  the  aqueducts  would,  of  course,  cut  off  the 
water. 

With  the  same  experienced  guide,  who  had  been  here 
for  many  years,  we  walked  around  the  city.  Soon  after 
we  had  passed  through  the  Damascus  gate,  we  came  to 
Jeremiah’s  cave,  in  which  he  is  said  to  have  been  impris¬ 
oned.  Jer.  38.  A  large,  projecting  rock  forms  a  chamber 
under  it,  hedged  in  by  a  wall.  We  had  scarcely  knocked 
at  the  door,  when  the  porter  already  commenced  a  vio¬ 
lent  hubbub  inside  of  the  wall  for  bucksheesh.  A  few 
vegetables  were  growing  within.  The  cave  receded  under 
the  rock  forty  or  fifty  feet,  and  is  about  the  same  in 
width.  It  is  said  that  anciently  the  mouth  of  the  cave 
was  on  the  top  of  the  rock,  but  this  has  been  broken 
away,  so  that  one  can  walk  in  on  level  ground.  That 
the  sorrowful  prophet  wrote  his  Lamentations  here  is 
only  a  conjecture,  and  most  likely  will  remain  such. 

We  next  crawled,  backward  down,  through  a  small 
hole  in  the  city  wall,  near  the  Damascus  gate,  into  the 
vast  quarries  and  vaults  under  Jerusalem.  After  light¬ 
ing  our  tapers,  we  descended  over  heaps  of  debris,  across 
gullies,  and  around  dark  holes,  and  peered  into  black 
yawning  abysses.  Stones  of  enormous  size  lay  scattered 
about,  some  partly  dressed,  which  looked  as  if  the  work- 


SUBTERRANEAN  RESEARCHES.  25^ 

men  had  just  left  them  to  get  their  dinners.  These  im¬ 
mense  blocks  had  been  cut  down  from  the  roof,  thus 
forming  vast  arches  with  a  solid  rock  ceiling,  and  here 
and  there  a  remaining  block  left  to  support  it.  The 
ceiling,  in  many  places,  must  be  from  twenty  to  thirty 
feet  above  the  floor.  We  found  large  heaps  of  stone 
chips,  cut  off  in  dressing  them,  which  shows  that  they 
were  finished  for  the  wall  before  being  taken  out  of  the 
quarries.  ‘‘And  the  house,  when  it  was  in  building,  was 
built  of  stone  made  ready  before  it  was  brought  thither.” 
1  Kings  6:7.  I  feel  persuaded  that  this  quarry  fur¬ 
nished  some  of  the  grey  stones  for  the  temple,  and  those 
remaining  here  may  have  been  cut  for  the  same  purpose. 
The  marks  are  still  visible  in  the  ceiling,  where  the  last 
side  of  the  blocks  was  wrought  loose.  We  came  to  a 
well  of  water  slightly  brackish.  The  guide  said  we 
passed  under  the  temple,  and  that  he  had  roamed  through 
these  caverns  for  long  hours  without  ever  coming  to  an 
end.  Over  this  vast  cavern  modern  Jerusalem  is  built. 
Cautiously  wandering  hither  and  thither,  ever  watchful 
of  yawning  precipices,  we  groped  through  these  dark 
labyrinths  for  three-quarters  of  an  hour,  w^hen  our  wan¬ 
ing  tapers  admonished  us  quickly  to  seek  the  light  of 
day,  or  we  might  be  left  in  endless  night.  Even  the 
guides  must  be  wide  awake  to  find  the  way  back  with 
lights,  and  without  these  one  would  be  hopelessly  lost. 
It  is  no  exaggeration  to  suppose  that  the  whole  city 
could  be  stowed  into  these  quarries  under  it. 

The  ancient  historians,  Strabo  and  Tacitus,  speak  of  a 
subterranean  Jerusalem,  whose  centre  was  under  the 
temple,  whence  it  branched  out  in  all  directions  under 
the  city.  And  Josephus  tells  us  that  when  Jerusalem 
was  besieged  by  Titus,  great  multitudes  of  Jews  within 
22 


254  CAPTURE  OF  SIMON  THE  TYRANT. 


the  city  hid  themselves  in  these  caverns.  One  of  their 
leaders,  Simon  the  Tyrant,  “took  the  most  faithful  of  his 
friends  with  him,  among  them  some  that  were  stone¬ 
cutters,  with  those  iron  tools  which  belong  to  their  occu¬ 
pation,”  in  the  hope  that  they  might  cut  their  way  out 
underneath  the  wall.  When  they  failed  in  this,  he  “  put 
on  a  white  frock,”  and  came  up  “  out  of  the  ground 
where  the  temple  had  formerly  been,”  with  the  hope  of 
frightening  the  Romans  by  personating  an  apparition  ; 
hut  he  failed,  and  was  captured.  A  large  part  of  this 
underground  Jerusalem  was  covered  with  pools  and 
basins  of  water,  to  which  the  above  Golden  Well  no  doubt 
belonged.  Thus,  as  Tacitus  has  it,  the  city  within  the 
walls  is  converted  into  a  perennial  fountain,  while  the 
country  outside  is  without  any  water,  save  what  it  gets 
from  the  pool  of  Siloam.  When  the  besiegers  of  Titus 
tried  to  get  water  here  for  their  army,  the  Jews  rushed 
upon  them  through  a  vault  from  under  the  city,  until 
their  way  was  finally  closed  up.  As  yet  very  little  is 
known  of  the  fundamental  part  of  Jerusalem.  You  hear 
reports  of  grand  arches  and  vaults  under  the  city, 
supported  by  a  thousand  columns;  of  pools,  and  a  well 
of  living  water  under  the  temple,  hut  the  half  has  not 
been  explored.  Still  the  country  around  Jerusalem  de¬ 
pends  for  its  water  upon  pools  and  wells  within  the  wall. 
Siloam  gets  its  water  from  beneath  the  temple,  as  Dr 
Robinson  has  shown ;  and,  if  this  be  cut  off,  no  army  of 
besiegers  can  live  any  length  of  time  outside  of  the  city. 

From  here  we  proceeded  eastward,  down  to  the  St. 
Stephen’s  gate.  Near  it  is  another  reservoir,  called  the 
Sheep  Pool.  Along  the  eastern  and  western  sides  of  the 
city  are  Mohammedan  burying -grounds,  with  “whited 
sepulchres”  and  numerous  grave  stones.  Along  this  side 


255 


‘‘THE  GOLDEN  GATE.” 

runs  the  Valley  of  Kedron,  beginning  above  the  northern 
wall,  sloping  gradually  down  into  a  ravine,  which  at  the 
temple  reaches  the  depth  of  100  feet.  The  bottom  of 
the  valley  is  about  150  yards  wide.  It  has  a  pebbly  water¬ 
course,  but  no  water  in  it,  save  when  heavy  winter- 
showers  send  it.  The  wall  runs  near  along  the  edge  of 
the  valley.  At  the  temple  enclosure  is  a  walled-up  gate, 
called  after  “  the  Golden  Gate  ”  of  the  old  temple.  Tra¬ 
dition  says  our  Saviour  made  His  final  entrance  through 
here.  The  Mohammedans  have  a  tradition  that  the  king 
who  is  to  capture  Jerusalem  the  next  time  will  enter 
through  this  gate,  and  hence  they  keep  it  closed.  Above 
the  gate  a  horizontal  pillar  projects  out  of  the  wall. 
The  followers  of  Mohammed,  in  common  with  the  Jews, 
hold  that  the  final  judgment  is  to  take  place  in  the  Valley 
of  Jehoshaphat ;  that  their  prophet  and  Christ  are  to  be 
the  judges  ;  that  the  former  is  to  sit  on  this  pillar  in  the 
wall,  and  the  latter  to  stand  on  the  Mount  of  Olives. 
In  the  days  of  Christ  there  was  a  wall  along  the  edge  of 
the  valley  here,  where  the  court  of  the  temple  touched 
it,  several  hundred  feet  in  height,  to  build  up  the  level 
terrace  of  the  temple-court.  Here  was  “the  pinnacle 
of  the  temple”  on  which  Satan  took  our  Saviour,  and 
requested  him  to  cast  himself  down  into  the  deep  valley. 
Matt.  4  :  5,  6.  Josephus  says  the  valley  here  was  very 
deep,  “  insomuch  that  if  any  one  looked  down  from  the 
top  of  the  battlement,  or  down  both  these  altitudes,  he 
would  be  giddy,  while  his  sight  could  not  reach  to  such 
an  immense  depth.” 

Southward  from  here  the  valley  becomes  deeper,  and 
its  sides  more  abrupt.  This  part  of  it  is  the  Valley  of 
Jehoshaphat.  On  the  eastern  bank  are  the  tombs  of 
Jehoshaphat,  Absalom,  St.  James,  Zacharias,  and  others. 


256  ABSALOM’S  GRAVE. 

The  Turks,  when  they  pass  the  tomb  of  Absalom,  cast  a 
stone  at  it,  with  a  curse  upon  him  and  all  others  who 
disobey  their  parents.  A  number  of  stone-heaps  have 
thus  been  accumulated  to  perpetuate  a  curse  upon  his 
memory.  A  little  higher  up,  on  the  lower  slope  of  the 
Mount  of  Olives,  is  the  Jewish  cemetery,  in  which  are 
many  graves,  covered  with  flat  stones,  containing  inscrip¬ 
tions  in  Hebrew.  To  be  buried  here,  or  as  near  to  it  as 
possible,  is  the  pious  wish  of  every  faithful  Jew.  For 
here,  near  and  in  sight  of  the  temple,  their  fathers  of 
old  were  buried;  and  here  they  await  the  eventful  day 
of  prophecy,  as  they  read  it,  when  the  Lord  shall  stand 
upon  the  Mount  of  Olives,”  and  it  ‘’shall  cleave  in  the 
midst  thereof,”  and  the  dead  shall  rise  from  beneath  it, 
and  all  nations  shall  be  judged.  Zechariah  14.  On  the 
opposite  bank  is  a  Mohammedan  burial-ground ;  for  the 
Turks  also  consider  this  a  favorite  place  of  interment. 
The  lower  bed  of  the  valley  is  rarely  reached  by  the  sun. 
The  lofty  Olivet  shuts  it  out  from  morning jtill  noon ;  and 
in  the  afternoon  Jerusalem,  with  its  high  wall,  throws  a 
darkening  shade  over  it.  It  is  the  deep  dark  valley 
through  which  we  must  pass  in  going  from  the  earthly 
Jerusalem  to  the  Mount  of  Ascension.  For  this  reason 
David  alludes  figuratively  to  it,  when  he  speaks  of  walk¬ 
ing  “  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death.''  Psalm 
23  :  4. 

This  valley  turns  westward  around  the  southern  end 
of  Jerusalem,  where  is  the  village  of  Siloam,  whose  few 
tenants  dwell  in  excavated  tombs  and  rude  huts.  Then 
the  bed  of  the  valley  widens  into  the  green,  well-culti¬ 
vated  King’s  garden,  where  figs,  pomegranates,  and 
vegetables  grow  in  abundance.  Near  the  base  of  the 
bill  we  came  to  the  upper  pool  of  Siloam,  or  Fountain 


THE  POOL  OF  SILOAM. 


257 


of  the  Virgin.  Thirty-six  steps  lead  down  to  the  water’s 
edge  ;  the  bottom  of  the  pool  being  ten  or  fifteen  feet  lower 
than  the  bed  of  the  valley.  It  is  fifteen  feet  long  and  five 
or  six  wide.  It  is  said  to  be  “  the  King’s  pool  ”  of  which 
Nehemiah  speaks.  ‘‘  The  walls  of  Jerusalem,  which  were 
broken  down,”  passed  along  the  base  of  the  hill,  near 
the  pool ;  and,  the  valley  narrowing  from  here  upward, 
the  stone  heaps  would  naturally  block  it  up.  “  Then  I 
went  on  to  the  gate  of  the  fountain,  and  to  the  King’s 
pool :  but  there  was  no  place  for  the  beast  that  was 
under  me  to  pass.”  Neh.  2  :  14. 

A  little  further  down,  we  came  to  the  Scriptural  pool 
of  Siloam,  53  feet  long,  18  wide,  and  19  deep.  The 
water  of  both  these  pools  is  sweet,  and  comes  through  a 
subterranean  passage  from  the  temple,  or  Mosque  of 
Omar.  It  ripples  down  over  the  bed  of  the  valley,  and 
waters  the  King’s  garden.  Its  position,  at  the  southern 
slope  of  Mount  Zion,  helps  one  clearly  to  identify  it. 
Under  the  direction  of  Nehemiah,  ‘‘  Shallum  repaired  the 
wall  of  the  pool  of  Siloah  by  the  king’s  garden,  and 
unto  the  stairs  that  go  down  from  the  city  of  David.” 
Neh.  3  :  15.  “Go  wash  in  the  pool  of  Siloam”  our 
Saviour  said  to  the  blind  man.  John  9  :  7.  And,  per¬ 
haps,  “  the  eighteen  upon  whom  the  tower  in  Siloam 
fell,”  perished  here.  Luke  13  :  4. 

The  whole  of  Mount  Zion  was  included  in  th-e  ancient 
city,  the  wall  running  near  to  its  base ;  the  present  wall 
extends  over  the  top,  placing  a  large  part  of  it  outside. 
Part  of  the  level  top  is  cultivated,  and  part  is  used  for 
Christian  cemeteries.  Peter,  in  his  Pentecostal  sermon, 
speaks  of  Da  vid,  and  says :  “  His  sepulchre  is  with  us 
unto  this  day.”  On  the  uninhabited  top  of  Mount  Zion, 
is  a  stone  building  surmounted  by  a  minaret,  in  which 
22  *  K 


258 


SUPPOSED  TOMB  OF  DAVID. 


Jews  and  Mohammedans  believe  to  have  found  the  tomb 
of  David.  Here,  too,  some  place  the  scene  of  the  last 
supper.  It  is  called  the  Mosque  of  the  Tomb  of  David, 
at  whose  door  we  vainly  knocked  for  admission.  The 
grave  of  the  sweet  singer  of  Israel  is  somewhere  on  this 
Mount  Zion,  for  he  was  buried  in  the  city  of  David,” 
which  was  built  on  it.  1  Kings  2  :  10.  There  he  sleeps 
with  ‘‘  his  fathers,”  and  with  Solomon  his  son  (1  Kings 
11  :  43) ;  but  their  dust  has  been  lost,  and  their  places 
built  and  ploughed  over. 

Passing  along,  we  noticed  a  man  trying  to  plough  with 
an  ass  and  a  heifer.  It  was  a  sorry  task  to  yoke  such 
an  unequal  pair  together.  The  heifer  slipped  the  yoke, 
and  the  enraged  Arab  bounded  after  her  into  a  wheat- 
field,  then  tried  to  pull  her  back  at  the  horns.  When 
he  adjusted  the  yoke,  the  sage  donkey  walked  out  of  the 
other  end,  and  so  the  ill-yoked  pair  jerked  hither  and 
thither  to  the  great  annoyance  and  rage  of  their  driver. 
Such  a  team  -was  forbidden  to  the  Jews  (I^eut.  22  :  10) ; 
and  Paul  applies  the  figure  to  the  more  solemn  yokings 
of  uncongenial  pairs  in  wedlock,  when  he  warns  the  Co¬ 
rinthians  not  to  be  ‘‘  unequally  yoked  with  unbelievers.” 
2  Cor.  6  :  14. 

Wherever  there  is  sufficient  ground  over  the  rocks  of 
Mount  Zion  outside  of  the  w’all,  the  needy  tenants  of  the 
Holy  City  try  to  raise  their  bread.  Ploughed  fields, 
wheat,  barley,  vegetables,  a  few  trees,  and  bare  rocks, 
now  cover  a  place  once  resplendent  with  regal  glory, 
“  Therefore,  shall  Zion  for  your  sake,  be  ploughed  as  a 
field,  and  Jerusalem  shall  become  heaps,  and  the  moun^ 
tain  of  the  house  as  the  high  places  of  the  forest.” 
Micah  3  :  12.  How  these  hills  and  ruin-heaps  teem 
with  fulfilled  prophecy ! 


EN-ROGEL. 


259 


At  the  southern  base  of  Mount  Zion  the  Valley  of  Je- 
hoshaphat  joins  that  of  Hinnom,  which  runs  along  the 
western  side  of  the  city.  A  short  distance  below  their 
junction  is  En-rogel,  sometimes  called  the  well  of  Job, 
or  the  well  of  Nehemiah.  It  is  125  feet  deep,  walled  up 
with  large  square  stones,  and  at  this  time  was  pretty  w*ell 
filled  with  sweet  fresh  water.  The  Arabs  say  that  when 
En-Rogel  is  well  filled  with  water  in  the  spring,  the  year 
will  be  fruitful.  Its  waters  are  not  adequate  for  the 
wants  of  a  besieging  army.  There  is  a  small  building 
over  the  mouth  of  it,  in  which  are  a  few  stone  water- 
troughs.  The  name  En-Rogel  occurs  twice  in  the  Bible. 
In  2  Sam.  17  :  17,  where  Jonathan  and  Aliimaaz  stayed 
at  En-Bogel,  to  evade  the  rebellious  Absalom ;  and  in 
1  Kings  1  :  9,  where  another  rebellious  son  of  David 

slew  sheep  and  oxen  and  fat  cattle  by  the  stone  of 
Zoheleth,  which  is  by  En-Rogel,  and  called  all  his  brethren 
the  king’s  sons,  and  all  the  men  of  Judah  the  king’s  ser¬ 
vants.”  The  little  plain,  with  olives  around  the  well, 
would  still  furnish  a  very  suitable  spot  for  such  an 
occasion. 

We  now  went  northward  in  the  Valley  of  Hinnom, 
climbing  along  its  western  bank,  where  we  came  to  Acel¬ 
dama,  “the  potter’s  field  to  bury  strangers  in,”  bought 
with  “  the  price  of  blood,”  which  Judas  got  for  betraying 
our  Saviour.  Acts  1  :  19.  We  entered  a  few  tombs,  con¬ 
sisting  of  chambers  cut  out  of  the  solid  rock,  with  a  com¬ 
mon-sized  door  to  enter.  The  ceiling  of  one  contained 
a  few  rude  paintings,  apparently  of  priests.  Asses  and 
goats  sought  shade  and  shelter  in  some  of  them,  just  as 
cattle  were  kept  and  fed  in  the  cave  or  stable  in  which 
our  Saviour  was  born.  Perpendicular  rocks  rise  out  of 
terraces,  where  you  can  walk  into  the  tombs  on  the  level 


260 


GEHENNAH. 


ground.  An  ancient  cliarnel-liouse  in  ruins  is  the  only 

building  found  here.  This  ground  has  been  used  for  the 

last  800  or  1000  years  ‘‘  to  bury  strangers  in,”  and  for 

a  long  while  after  our  Saviour’s  crucifixion  it  was  used 

for  the  same  purpose.  Some  of  the  terraces  were  green 

with  wheat  and  grass,  and  a  few  olive  trees  grew  on 

others,  giving  it  a  more  cheerful  appearance  than  its 

origin  would  seem  to  warrant.  From  here  we  again 

descended  into  the  Yalley  of  Hinnom,  or  rather  Gehen- 

nah,  as  this  part  is  called.  Here,  from  the  junction  of 

* 

the  two  valleys  northward  the  idolatrous  Jews  made 
‘‘  their  sons  and  their  daughters  pass  through  the  fires 
of  Moloch.”  2  Kings  23  : 10;  Jer.  7  :  31.  To  prevent  the 
recurrence  of  similar  idolatries,  it  was  made  the  recep¬ 
tacle  of  all  the  refuse  of  the  city  ;  heaps  of  vile  carcasses 
were  brought  hither  reeking  with  worms  and  putrefac¬ 
tion,  and  a  fire  was  kept  burning  day  and  night  to  destroy 
its  vitiating  and  pestilential  effects  on  the  atmosphere. 
Isaiah  30  :  33.  Thus  what  in  former  ages  was,  according 
to  Milton,  ‘‘the  pleasant  valley  of  Hinnom,”  became  the 
emporium  of  pollution  and  a  type  of  the  place  of  future 
torment.  “  The  worm  that  dieth  not,  and  the  fire  that  is 
not  quenched,”  is  a  figure  borrowed  from  the  quenchless 
fire  and  the  maggots  and  worms  which  incessantly  revelled 
among  the  vile  refuse  of  Gehennah.  Here  a  vile  cloud  of 
smoke  ascended  by  day  and  by  night,  which  was  like  the 
sufferings  of  the  damned,  the  smoke  of  whose  “  torments 
shall  rise  up  forever  and  ever.”  In  the  course  of  time 
the  decay  of  animals  strewed  the  valley  with  a  vast  quan¬ 
tity  of  bones.  It  was  “  the  valley  which  was  full  of  bones  ” 
in  Ezekiel’s  vision.  They  were  all  bare,  and  bleached, 
without  flesh,  sinews,  and  skin,  “  dry  bones,”  which  the 
breath  of  life  inspired  with  vitality,  —  an  image  of  the 


MOHAMMEDAN  CEMETERY. 


261 


life-giving  power  of  the  Gospel.  Ezek.  37.  The  bed  of 
the  valley  is  now  covered  with  a  soft  grassy  carpet,  and  the 
atmosphere  is  pure  and  pleasant.  Indeed,  this  whole  val¬ 
ley  of  Hinnom  looks  more  green  and  cheerful  than  that 
of  the  Kedron,  showing  that  here,  as  in  the  moral  world, 
the  predicted  life  has  really  come. 

At  the  northern  end  of  Gehennah  a  wall  stretches  across 
the  narrow  bed  of  the  valley,  over  which  passes  a  road. 
Robinson  thinks  that  this  wall  formed  a  dam  in  the  val¬ 
ley  called  “  the  lower  pool  ”  of  Gihon.  Isaiah  22  :  9. 
The  valley  is  here  about  100  feet  deep,  its  depth  dimin¬ 
ishing  as  you  proceed  northward.  South-west  from  here 
is  the  so-called  house  of  Caiphas,  and  near  it  a  tree  on 
which  Judas  is  said  to  have  hanged  himself.  Passing  the 
Jaffa  gate  we  proceeded  ten  minutes  above  it  to  the  upper 
pool  of  Gihon,  from  which  Hezekiah  brought  water  to  his 
pool  within  the  city.  Is.  7  :  3 ;  36  :  2 ;  2  Kings  18  :  17. 
It  is  in  the  upper  shallow  basin  of  Hinnom,  where  it 
slopes  and  spreads  away  into  a  common  level  with  the 
stony  surface  of  the  surrounding  region.  Along  the  west¬ 
ern  wall  is  another  Mohammedan  cemetery.  Turning 
around  the  northern  wall  we  passed  along  the  common 
road  to  the  Damascus  gate.  Jews,  Christians,  and  Mo¬ 
hammedans,  all  bury  their  dead  outside  of  the  city,  just 
as  our  Saviour  “suffered  without  the  gate,”  where  he 
also  was  buried.  John  19  :  41 ;  Hebrews  13  :  12.  This 
then  is  the  natural  situation  of  Jerusalem :  on  the  east, 
south,  and  west  it  is  surrounded  by  the  valleys  of  Ke¬ 
dron,  Jehoshaphat,  and  Hinnom.  It  can  only  be  ap¬ 
proached  from  these  sides  by  coming  up  a  hill  out  of  the 
valleys.  On  the  north  it  has  no  valley.  The  surface  of 
the  country  in  this  direction  presents  a  gradual  rise  from 
the  Damascus  gate.  The  valleys  form  a  fork  not  unlike 


262 


SCENE  OF  THE  ASCENSION. 


intrenchments  dug  around  three  sides  of  a  place  with 
their  ground  all  heaped  between  them.  This  being 
hedged  in  on  three  sides,  pressing  the  city  wdthin  fixed 
limits,  may  account  for  the  expression,  ‘^Jerusalem  is 
builded  as  a  city  that  is  compact  together.”  Psalm 
122  :  3. 

Jerusalem  is  itself  on  a  mountain  with  mounts  within 
it.  We  read  that  ‘‘As  the  mountains  are  round  about 
Jerusalem,  so  is  the  Lord  round  about  His  people.” 
Psalm  125  :  2.  There  are  mountains  rising  out  of  these 
ravines  or  valleys  which  form  a  breastwork  on  three 
sides.  But  Jerusalem  itself  is  higher  than  two  of  these. 
No  mountains  interrupt  the  view  of  the  city  as  you  ap¬ 
proach  it  from  the  north,  south,  and  west,  always  being 
higher  than  its  neighboring  hills.  On  the  east  however, 
the  Mount  of  Olives  rises  180  feet  above  Mount  Zion. 
From  the  summit  of  Olivet,  over  against  the  temple,  tra¬ 
dition  says  our  Lord  ascended  to  Heaven.  South  of  this, 
opposite  the  well  of  Nehemiah  or  En-Rogel,  is  another 
summit,  called  the  Mount  of  Ofience,  by  many  supposed 
to  be  “the  hill  that  is  before  Jerusalem”  on  which 
Solomon  committed  idolatry.  1  Kings  11  :  7.  Between 
these  two  summits  the  principal  road  to  Bethany,  Jericho, 
and  the  Jordan,  crosses  the  mountain.  There  is  a  path 
over  the  top,  which  is  nearer  but  less  used. 

One  pleasant  day  we  left  our  lodgings  in  the  street  of 
Sorrow  for  a  stroll  over  the  lovely  Olivet,  for  such  it  is  to 
this  day.  Near  the  St.  Stephen’s  gate  we  paused  a  few 
moments  to  look  at  the  pool  of  Bethesda.  “There  is  at 
Jerusalem  by  the  sheep  gate  a  pool,  which  in  the  Hebrew 
is  called  Bethesda,  having  five  porches.”  John  5:2.  It 
is  above  the  northern  wall  of  the  temple  enclosure,  and 
now  about  75  feet  deep,  formerly  it  was  perhaps  deeper. 


GARDEN  OF  OLIVET. 


268 


since  a  great  part  has  been  filled  up  with  rubbish.  Two 
high  arches  run  under  the  houses  on  the  west  side,  which 
may  possibly  correspond  to  some  of  its  ancient  “  porches.” 
It  was  perfectly  dry,  and  a  donkey  was  grazing  on  its 
weedy  bottom.  Recent  travellers,  among  the  rest  Dr. 
Robinson,  dispute  its  identity  with  the  Bethesda  of  the 
Gospel,  but  so  it  is  called,  and  I  believe  not  without 
reason.  There  is  no  longer  any  water  in  it,  as  in  the 
days  of  Christ,  when  the  angel  came  down  to  move  it  for 
the  healing  of  the  sick. 

The  Mount  of  Olives  is  immediately  opposite  the 
Temple.  From  here  across  the  Kedron  to  Gethsemane 
Christ  had  to  go  several  hundred  yards  down  a  steep 
hank  or  hill.  The  garden  lies  at  the  base  of  Olivet  along 
the  edge  of  the  brook.  In  the  golden  age  of  the  Hebrew 
nation  this  side  of  the  Mount  abounded  with  shady  groves 
and  served  as  the  park  of  the  city.  The  narrow  streets 
of  Eastern  cities  renders  an  open  shady  place  of  resort 
very  necessary  to  the  comfort  of  their  inhabitants.  Many 
of  the  strangers  attending  the  Jewish  festivals  at  Jerusa¬ 
lem  had  to  lodge  outside  of  the  walls.  It  was  impossible 
that  the  several  hundred  thousand  pilgrims  which  assem¬ 
bled  at  such  times,  should  find  room  within  the  city. 
When  it  was  too  crowded  on  such  occasions,  the  shadj? 
quiet  retreat  of  Olivet  became  a  favorite  resort  for  plea¬ 
sure,  devotion,  or  rest.  Up  along  its  uneven  ascent  from 
the  brook  of  Kedron  to  the  summit,  numerous  tents  were 
doubtless  dotted  through  the  thick  olive  groves.  From 
here  they  could  see  the  whole  city ;  the  people  reclining 
and  chatting  on  the  house-tops,  and  the  Roman  soldiers 
brandishing  their  clattering  arms  to  quell  the  turbulent 
Pharisees  and  Sadducees  in  the  crowded  streets.  The 
temple  with  its  dazzling  front  stood  clearly  in  view,  and 


ft 


264  JESTJS  ON  THE  MOUNT  OF  OLIVES. 

the  devout  throng  pressing  around  its  gates  and  through 
its  courts,  was  seen  from  the  mount.  They  could  see  the 
cloud  of  incense  curling  heavenward  from  the  altar  of 
sacrifice,  and  hear  the  singers  sing  their  psalms  of  praise. 
Olivet  was,  therefore,  the  most  convenient  encamping 
place  for  those  who  found  no  room  in  the  city.  Our 
Saviour  but  submitted  to  this  common  necessity  when  He 
repaired  to  the  Mount  of  Olives  in  the  evening,  either  to 
lodge  with  His  friends  at  Bethany,  on  the  eastern  slope 
of  Olivet,  about  two  miles  from  Jerusalem,  or  in  the  open 
air  with  many  others. 

When  He  was  tired  of  the  hypocritical  and  cavilling 
Jews,  who  annoyed  Him  with  questions  and  jealous  re¬ 
proaches,  He  w'ent  out  to  the  mountain  to  pray,  where 
He  could  be  alone.  He  had  often  resorted  to  the  leafy 
solitude  of  Gethsemane,  for  His  enemies  knew  that  He 
had  gone  there  the  night  of  His  betrayal,  without  being 
told:  “Judas  knew  the  place,  for  Jesus  oftentimes  re¬ 
sorted  thither  with  His  disciples.”  John  18  :  2.  “In  the 
day-time  He  was  teaching  in  the  temple,  and  at  night 
He  went  out  arid  abode  in  the  mount,  that  is  called  the 
Mount  of  Olives.”  Luke  21  :  37.  One  morning,  “rising 
up  a  great  while  before  day.  He  went  out  and  departed 
into  a  solitary  place  and  there  prayed,”  His  “head  filled 
with  dew,  and  His  locks  with  the  drops  of  the  night.” 
Song  of  Sol.  5  :  2.  This  was  most  probably  the  §ame 
mount.  Mark  1  :  35. 

It  was  a  pleasant  relief  to  get  out  of  the  noisy  streets 
of  Jerusalem,  crowded  with  15,000  strangers,  to  medi¬ 
tate  on  Olivet.  The  old  olives  were  vocal  with  the  songs 
of  many  birds,  and  the  green  slopes  of  the  mount  stood 
out  in  cheerful  contrast  to  the  dreary  ruins  of  the  city, 
and  the  arid  plain  of  the  Jordan,  which  is  seen  from  its 


i 


I 


GARDEN  OF  GETIISEMANE 


GETHSEMANE. 


265 


summit.  Here  I  always  found  a  tree  to  offer  its  leafy 
canopy  for  shade,  and  a  solemn  stillness  to  aid  medita¬ 
tion. 

At  the  road-side,  scarcely  150  feet  from  the  bridge 
across  the  Kedron,  is  a  square  piece  of  ground  enclosed 
by  a  stone  wall  ten  or  twelve  feet  high.  The  Gethse- 
mane  of  the  Bible  doubtless  extended  over  an  area  of 
several  acres  along  here,  but  that  sweet  name  is  at  pre¬ 
sent  applied  to  this  enclosure.  I  have  no  doubt  it  is  a 
remnant  of  it.  After  a  few  earnest  raps  at  a  little  door 
in  the  rear  wall,  a  monk  with  shaven  head,  and  coarse 
brown  loose  habit,  and  a  cord  around  the  waist,  unlocked 
from  within  and  bade  us  come  in.  It  was  a  strait” 
or  low  gate,  and  required  a  stooping  posture  to  enter. 
The  garden  is  laid  out  in  beds,  planted  with  flowers  and 
aromatic  plants.  These  told  me  a  grateful  story  of  the 
Saviour’s  agony  here,  and  how  He  seems  all  the  more 
sweet  and  lovely  for  having  been  bruised. 

“As  aromatic  plants  bestow 
No  spicy  fragrance  while  they  grow, 

But  crushed  and  trodden  to  the  ground, 

Diffuse  their  spicy  sweets  around.'’^ 

In  strange  and  severe  contrast  to  these  pretty  sweet 
scented  plants  were  eight  very  large  olive  trees,  like  old 
patriarchs,  around  whose  wrinkled  gnarly  trunks  and 
roots  the  tender  plants  of  a  season  spread  in  rich  profu¬ 
sion.  Eminent  naturalists  compute  their  age  at  2000 
years.  Their  rough  rind  and  aged  features  make  them*^ 
look  different  from  any  olive  trees  that  I  have  seen  here 
or  elsewhere.  The  wall  was  made  to  protect  them,  and 
the  saintly  sentinel  lives  in  a  small  lodge  in  the  corner 
of  the  garden  beneath  their  shade,  and  spends  his  days  in 

23 


266 


BETRAYAL  OF  CHRIST. 


nursing  their  declining  and  protracted  life,  and  preserve 
them  as  the  hallowed  relics  that  have  witnessed  the  Sa¬ 
viour’s  agony  in  Gethsemane.  Their  gnarled  trunks  and 
greyish  foliage  points  them  out  as  the  most  affecting  of 
the  sacred  memorials  around  the  Holy  City,  and  the 
most  venerable  of  their  race  in  the  world. 

At  the  lower  end  of  the  garden  was  a  trellice-work 
spun  over  with  a  vine,  forming  a  shady  arbor,  under 
which  are  a  few  short  benches,  where  pilgrims  sit  and 
meditate.  The  Turks  have  thrown  together  a  heap  of 
stones,  to  mark  the  spot  where  Judas  betrayed  Christ,  as 
accursed  for  all  times. 

The  monk  keeps  a  sacred  watch  over  every  object  on 
this  hallowed  ground.  He  allowed  us  to  gather  a  few 
loose  olive  leaves  scattered  on  the  ground,  and  on  my 
last  visit  he  gave  me  a  small  bunch  of  flo'wers  as  a  part¬ 
ing  gift. 

Here  “being  in  agony  He  prayed  more  earnestly,  and 
His  sweat  was  as  it  were  great  drops  of  blood  falling 
down  to  the  ground.”  Was  ever  ground  so  hallowed  by 
Divine  Sorrow  for  the  guilty  and  the  lost !  Here  He 
knelt,  trembled,  and  prayed,  while  His  tired,  weak  disci¬ 
ples  were  too  much  exhausted  to  watch  with  Him,  “sleep¬ 
ing  for  sorrow.”  Perhaps  the  soft  night  air  stirred  a 
gentle  rustling  among  the  leafy  trees  while  He  agonized 
with  half  audible  groans.  Then  came  Judas  and  the 
multitude,  with  swords,  and  staves,  and  the  betrayer’s 
kiss.  Matt.  26  :  36-49. 

Every  believer  should  have  a  little  Gethsemane  in  his 
heart,  whither  his  spirit  flees  to  agonize  and  wrestle  in 
bitter  sin-conflicts.  The  dreadful  garden  comes  before 
Calvary  in  our  spiritual  history,  as  w'ell  as  in  the  Sa¬ 
viour’s  trials.  And  well  is  it  for  all  occasionally  to  seek 


David’s  sorrow. 


267 


the  calm  hush  of  the  spirit’s  Gethsemane  to  pray,  and 
with  wrestling  preparation  to  nerve  themselves  for  greater 
trials  still  to  come. 

The  Mount  of  Olives  is  not  often  mentioned  in  the  Old 
Testament.  When  Absalom  rebelled,  “  David  went  up 
by  the  ascent  of  Mount  Olivet,  and  wept  as  he  went  up ; 
and  he  went  barefoot :  and  all  the  people  that  was  with 
him  covered  every  man  his  head,  and  they  went  up,  weep¬ 
ing  as  they  went  up.”  2  Sam.  15  :  30.  When  he  had 
come  to  the  top  of  the  mount,  he  worshipped  God,  where 
Hushai  the  Archite  came  to  meet  him.  “  A  little  past 
the  top  of  the  hill,  Ziba,  the  servant  of  Mephibosheth,  met 
him  with  a  couple  of  asses  saddled,  and  upon  them  two 
hundred  loaves  of  bread,  and  an  hundred  bunches  of 
raisins,  and  an  hundred  of  summer  fruit,  and  a  bottle  of 
wine.”  And  as  he  went  down  on  the  other  side,  “Shimei 
went  along  on  the  hill-side  over  against  him,  and  cursed 
as  he  went,  and  threw  stones  at  him  and  cast  dust.” 
2  Sam.  16. 

On  a  certain  spring  morning,  the  season  when  turtles 
are  wont  to  coo  from  the  grey  olive  branches,  and  the 
fig-tree  putteth  forth  its  leaves ;  when  flowers  and  fresh 
dewy  grass  diffuse  a  pleasant  fragrance  over  Olivet,  our 
Saviour  came  up  from  Bethany  to  Jerusalem  for  the  last 
time.  He  came  with  a  great  caravan  of  Jews  from  Gali¬ 
lee,  who  were  coming  to  the  feast  of  the  Passover. 
Doubtless  many  had  joined  them  at  Bethany  to  escort 
the  great  Prophet  who  had  raised  Lazarus,  their  towns¬ 
man,  from  the  dead,  to  Jerusalem.  The  numerous  Jews 
already  at  Jerusalem,  having  heard  of  his  approach, 
came  out  to  meet  him.  Going  along  the  road  some  cut 
down  palm  branches  for  wreaths  of  triumph.  Perhaps 
the  two  tides  met  somewhere  near  the  summit,  where  all 


268  THE  ‘‘STEONGHOLD  OF  DAVID.’’ 

fey  in  witli  the  large  triumphal  procession,  some  going 
before  and  casting  their  palm  branches  in  his  way,  others 
carpeting  the  road  with  their  loose  outer  garments  or 
blankets.  Just  where  the  road  crosses  the  top  it  turns 
around  a  projecting  bluff,  where  suddenljr  Mount  Zion 
comes  to  view.  Though  now  a  part  is  a  ploughed 
field,”  and  the  buildings  within  the  wall  are  of  an  ordi¬ 
nary  exterior,  this  sudden  surprise  is,  to  this  day,  start¬ 
ling,  and  even  imposing.  The  mount  is  crowned  with 
the  castle  of  Herod,  where  then  the  palace  of  David 
stood.  On  Mount  Zjon  was  that  part  of  Jerusalem  called 
‘‘the  city  of  David;”  and  its  strongly  fortified  position 
gave  it  the  name  of  “the  stronghold  of  David.”  Here 
“  nevertheless  David  took  the  stronghold  of  Zion :  the 
same  is  the  city  of  David.”  2  ^am.  5  :  7.  Palaces  and 
costly  buildings  graced  Mount  Zion  to  its  base  in  the 
valley  of  Jehoshaphat.  It  was  a  grand  sight  to  behold  this 
regal  citadel  from  any  point.  There  was  no  place  like 
it.  Beautiful  for  situation^  the  joy  of  the  whole  earth, 
is  Mount  Zion,  on  the  sides  of  the  north,  the  city  of  the 
great  King.”  Psalm  48  :  2.  To  the  pious  Jew,  coming 
to  the  annual  feasts,  approaching  the  Holy  City  over 
the  Mount  of  Olives,  the  first  view  of  it  was  enchant¬ 
ing.  When  the  old  Sclavonians,  returning  from  battle, 
got  the  first  glimpse  of  their  proud  and  splendid  metro¬ 
polis,  the  whole  army  burst  out  wdth  one  wild,  simulta¬ 
neous  shout,  Moscow,  Once  a  mighty  German  army, 
returned  from  a  victorious  battle-field,  and  as  its  thou¬ 
sands  of  brave  hearts  reached  the  top  of  the  vine-clad 
hills  which  overlook  the  Rhine,  they  could  hold  their 
peace  no  longer,  in  sight  of  their  noble  German  river, 
but  poured  out  their  roaring  song : 


“Am  Rhein,  am  Rhein,  da  wachsen  unsere  Rehen!^^ 


Christ's  triumphal  entry.  269 

As  the  rear  columns  reached  the  hill  tops,  they  caught 
the  echoes  of  the  song ;  and  so,  from  morn  till  night,  the 
mighty  song,  ‘‘Am  Khein,  am  Rhein,”  swelled  and 
rolled  over  its  hill-girt  shores.  When  the  Crusaders, 
under  Godfrey  de  Bouillon,  got  their  first  view’  of  the 
Holy  City,  on  a  hill  to  the  north  of  it,  they  at  once  for¬ 
got  all  the  trials  they  had  endured.  The  sight  moved 
the  army  like  a  mighty  tempest  in  the  forest;  the  wildest 
warriors  shed  tears  of  joy,  while  the  whole  multitude 
burst  forth  in  a  stormy  hymn  of  praise.  But  far  stronger 
and  holier  was  the  enthusiasm  of  the  Jew  for  his  Zion. 
Next  to  the  temple,  “  the  city  of  David  ”  was  the  pride 
of  the  Hebrew  nation,  the  monument  of  their  former 
glory  and  powder,  and  associated  with  the  King  whose 
son  or  descendant  was  to  be  the  Messiah.  When  the 
“very  great  multitude”  reached  this  turning  point  in 
the  road,  “at  the  descent  of  the  Mount  of  Olives,”  the 
city  of  David  suddenly  burst  upon  their  view.  Here, 
most  probably,  the  shout  triumphant  rose  from  the  vast 
long  train,  as  they  crowded  around  David’s  greater  Son: 
“  Hosannah  to  the  son  of  David.  Blessed  is  he  that 
cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord.  Blessed  be  the  King 
that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord.  And  the  whole 
multitude  of  the  disciples  began  to  rejoice  and  praise 
God  with  a  loud  voice  for  all  the  mighty  works  that  they 
had  seen.”  Matt.  21 ;  Luke  19.  It  was  too  much  for 
the  envious  Pharisees,  who  asked  Him  to  rebuke  His 
enthusiastic  disciples.  Then,  as  now,  there  were  many 
loose  stones  scattered  over  the  mount.  He  replied;  “If 
these  should  hold  their  peace,  the  stones  would  imme¬ 
diately  cry  out.” 

Hosannas  W'cre  still  ringing  in  the  rear  as  the  advance 
procession  came  to  another  projecting  ridge,  partly  ob- 
23* 


270 


JERUSALEM  AT  SUNRISE. 


structing  the  view  of  the  other  parts  of  the  city.  When 
the  caravan  drew  its  long  line  over  it,  the  whole  city 
stood  before  them,  as  if  suddenly  raised  by  an  enchan¬ 
ter’s  wand.  The  morning  sun  was  shining  on  the  golden 
gate  of  the  temple,  reflecting  a  dazzling  light,  almost 
blinding.  Its  walls  of  snowy  white  rose  above  the  city  with 
unheard-of  beauty.  Towers,  walls,  gates,  pools,  palaces, 
streets,  iii  short  every  feature  useful  and  ornamental 
which  gave  Jerusalem  renown  among  all  nations,  stood 
out  to  view  with  enchanting  splendor.  May  it  not  have 
been  on  this  elevation,  with  this  grandest  of  all  earthly 
scenes  suddenly  before  him,  and  with  a  knowledge  of 
Jerusalem’s  impending  destruction,  where  “  he  beheld 
the  city  and  wept  over  it.”  Luke  19  :  41.  What  a  spec¬ 
tacle  !  David  hurrying  up  the  Mount  of  Olives,  fleeing 
from  his  city  and  his  ungrateful  Absalom ;  and  Christ 
descending  it  toward  the  city,  amid  the  applauding  ho¬ 
sannas  of  a  multitude,  to  be  crucifled  !  Both  shedding 
tears  of  wounded  kindness  and  of  pity  for  cruel,  dis¬ 
obedient  friends ! 

On  the  top  or  highest  point  of  the  Mount  of  Olives, 
called  the  Mount  of  Ascension,  a  few  Arab  huts  cluster 
around  the  traditional  spot  from  which  our  Lord  ascended 
to  heaven.  The  Mohammedans  must  always  have  a 
mosque  (as  indeed  oriental  Christians  have  chapels)  built 
over  every  reputed  sacred  place.  Whether  it  be  the 
grave  of  a  saint,  or  a  place  connected  with  his  history, 
they  must  have  a  small  edifice  in  which  to  say  their 
prayers  near  his  hallowed  dust.  Admitting  Christ  to 
have  been  a  great  prophet,  though  not  a  divine  being, 
they  even  award  Him  such  honors.  Among  the  few, 
humble  dwellings  on  Olivet,  is  a  small  Christian  chapel, 
and  aside  of  it  a  small  mosque.  In  the  floor  of  the 


I 


^  BETHANY  AND  OLIVET.  271 

chapel  is  a  bare  rock,  with  an  impression  somewhat  re¬ 
sembling  a  footprint,  w'hich  a  credulous  piety  ascribes  to 
Christ ;  for  it  is  said  to  mark  the  last  spot  which  his 
sacred  feet  touched  before  he  left  the  earth. 

Luke  (24  :  50)  says :  He  led  them  out  as  far  as 
Bethany,  and  he  lifted  up  his  hands,  and  blessed  them,*' 
and  then  ascended  to  heaven.  In  Acts  1  :  12  we  are 
told  that,  after  his  resurrection,  his  disciples  returned 
“  unto  Jerusalem  from  the  mount  called  Olivet,  which 
is  from  Jerusalem  a  Sahhath-day* s  journey.’’  Bethany 
is  “fifteen  furlongs,”  or  almost  two  miles  from  Jerusa¬ 
lem,  while  a  Sabbath-day’s  journey  is  not  quite  a  mile; 
just  about  the  distance  between  the  city  and  the  top  of 
Olivet.  How  then  reconcile  the  two  narratives  ?  Be¬ 
thany  is  on  the  eastern  slope  of  the  mount,  on  the  side 
toward  the  Jordan.  There  is  no  doubt  that  our  Saviour 
did  proceed  to  the  home  of  Lazarus  and  his  sisters ;  but 
most  probably  returned  again  toward  Jerusalem  until  he 
reached  the  top  of  the  mount  from  where  he  ascended. 

I  ascended  the  minaret  of  the  small  mosque,  a  column 
not  unlike  a  furnace  chimney,  whose  view  embraces  the 
most  interesting  localities  in  the  w^orld.  It  was  on 
Friday,  the  Mohammedan  Sabbath.  A  large  crowd  of 
women,  all  dressed  or  folded  in  snow-white  linen,  were 
strolling  over  the  grassy  court,  and  among  the  tall  cy¬ 
press  trees  around  the  Mosque  of  Omar,  wLere  Solo¬ 
mon’s  temple  stood.  The  men  crowded  the  gates  to 
worship  within.  Many  women,  like  persons  wrapped  in 
spectral  sheets,  came  to  the  graves  outside  of  the  wall 
to  weep  over  buried  friends  and  children.  This  was  like¬ 
wise  the  custom  among  the  ancient  Jews.  When  Mary, 
who  had  been  bereft  of  Lazarus,  went  out  of  the  house, 


272  MOUNTAINS  OF  EPHRAIM  AND  MO^B. 

her  friends  said :  ‘‘  She  goeth  unto  the  grave  to  weep 
there.”  John  11  :  31. 

The  view  from  the  minaret  was  very  extensive.  East¬ 
ward,  the  bleak,  desolate  wilderness  of  Judea  rolled  in 
rough,  wave-like  undulations  down  toward  Jericho  and 
the  Jordan.  At  some  places,  a  green,  tortuous  line 
marked  the  serpentine  banks  of  the  river ;  at  others, 
nothing  but  its  own  treeless,  crooked  channel  pointed 
out  its  course  through  the  sandy,  barren  plain,  toward 
the  Dead  Sea.  Beyond  rose  the  long,  lofty  mountain- 
chain  of  Moab,  with 'just  grass  enough  to  give  it  a  faint 
tinge  of  verdure.  In  the  distant  north,  I  saw  the  moun¬ 
tains  of  Ephraim,  with  Ebal  and  Gerizim,  where  Joshua 
had  the  blessings  and  curses  proclaimed.  Joshua  8.  To 
the  south-west  were  the  hills  of  Judea.  To  the  west, 
more  than  two  hundred  feet  below  me,  was  Jerusalem, 
rising  up  from  Kedron  and  Jehoshaphat,  higher  and 
higher,  until  it  culminated  in  the  Protestant  Mission 
Church  on  Mount  Zion.  Houses,  mosques,  streets,  walls, 
and  valleys,  in  and  around  it,  were  most  distinctly 
mapped  out. 

The  Mount  of  Ascension  furnishes  the  highest  acces-  / 
sible  point  for  seeing  Jerusalem.  There  is  no  view  of 
the  Holy  City  like  this.  Whenever  Christ  wished  to  look 
at  the  city  or  temple,  he  went  on  Olivet ;  and  thither 
every  pilgrim  and  traveller  now  repairs  who  wishes  to 
get  a  good  view  of  it.  From  here,  you  can  look  over 
her  walls,  and  into  her  streets.  Seen  from  here,  the 
deformity  of  her  rubbish  and  ruins  melts  away  in  the 
distance ;  the  weeds  of  her  widowhood  appear  fair  as  a 
bridal  robe,  and  the  sun  sheds  upon  her  lorn  and  sad 
condition  the  soft,  pleasant  light  of  mercy  and  hope. 

’Tis  so  with  the  believer’s  ascension-mount.  A  clearer 


SINAI  AND  ZION. 


273 


and  more  cheerful  sun  shines  upon  objects  as  seen  from 
its  summit.  Viewed  with  the  ken  of  the  Saviour’s 
charity,  the  soils  and  imperfections  of  others  melt  away 
into  hues  of  purity.  Whilst  dwelling  in  the  earthly 
Jerusalem,  sharing  her  sorrows  and  tribulations,  her 
ruins  and  decay  disclose  marks  of  sorrow  and  suffering 
with  saddening  prominence.  But  from  our  ascension- 
mount  these  will  be  lost  in  the  lustre  of  her  triumphs, 
and  our  “abode  of  peace”  will  appear  without  “spot  or 
wrinkle  or  any  such  thing.”  Eph.  5  :  27. 

From  this  mount  you  see  the  Dead  Sea,  —  the  image 
of  desolation  and  death ;  and  the  temple,  under  whose 
altar  is  the  “  fountain  in  the  house  of  David,  opened  for 
sin  and  uncleanness,” — the  abode  of  death  and  the  source 
of  life.  So  when  the  believer  reaches  his  mount  of  ascen¬ 
sion,  from  which  he  passes  into  heaven,  he  has  a  view  of 
the  two  worlds,  —  the  world  of  sin  and  death,  and  the 
world  of  life  and  purity  in  heaven. 

What  a  difference  there  is  between  Mount  Sinai  and 
Mount  Zion  !  The  one  bears  the  stamp  of  an  eternal  and 
unchangeable  Law.  Every  peak,  cliff,  and  ravine  reveal 
the  results  of  resistless  forces.  The  absence  of  grass, 
trees,  and  singing  birds,  shows  that  even  naturally, 
“  Mount  Sinai  gendereth  to  bondage,”  and  is  under  the 
power  of  a  law  which  worketh  death.  Mount  Zion  is 
rich  with  the  music  and  complexion  and  joyous  hilarity 
of  nature.  Here  the  rocks  are  covered  with  life, — grass, 
trees,  and  men.  The  one  is  frowning,  threatening,  and 
commanding,  still  lifting  its  stern  peak  aloft,  around 
which  the  thunders  cljfpped  and  which  the  cloud  enveloped 
with  blackness,  when  the  Law  was  given ;  the  other  is 
the  meekest  mount  I  have  ever  seen,  nursing  every  thing 
planted  on  it  into  life  and  health.  It  inspires  no  feelings 

s 


274 


SCENES  ON  ZION. 


of  dread  or  fear,  but  lovingly  lures  one  into  the  green 
lap  it  spreads  around  its  base.  These  mountains  are 
symbolical  of  the  covenants  made  respectively  on  tbeir 
summits.  ^‘For  the  law  was  given  by  Moses,  but  grace 
and  truth  came  by  Jesus  Christ.’’  John  1  :  17.  “  For 
ye  are  not  come  unto  the  mount  that  might  be  touched, 
and  that  burned  with  fire,  nor  unto  blackness,  and  dark¬ 
ness,  and  tempest,  and  the  sound  of  a  trumpet,  and  the 
voice  of  words ;  which  voice  they  that  heard,  entreated 
that  the  word  should  not  be  spoken  to  them  any  more : 
But  ye  are  come  unto  Mount  Sion,  and  unto  the  city  of 
the  living  God,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  and  to  an  innu¬ 
merable  company  of  angels,  .  .  .  and  to  Jesus  the  Medi¬ 
ator  of  the  new  covenant,  and  to  the  blood  of  sprinkling 
that  speaketh  better  things  than  that  of  Abel.”  Heb. 
12  :  18-24. 

We  read  that  Bethany  was  about  fifteen  furlongs  ” 
from  Jerusalem,  (John  11  :  18,)  which  would  be  nearly 
two  miles.  I  walked  out  one  day  along  the  usual  cara¬ 
van  road,  in  thirty-five  minutes,  w^hich  would  correspond 
with  the  scriptural  distance.  Here  and  there  were  flou¬ 
rishing  fig  trees  “  in  the  way.”  Perhaps  along  this  same 
road  our  Saviour  came  from  Bethany,  when  he  cursed  a 
fig  tree.  Matt.  21.  I  sat  down  under  an  old  olive,  near 
the  reputed  tomb  of  Lazarus,  and  read  the  sweet  story 
of  him  and  his  sisters  In  the  meanwhile  a  few  Arab 
children  sat  quietly  at  my  feet,  and  spoke  in  suppressed 
whispers,  as  if  in  sympathy  with  my  devout  frame  of 
mind.  The  mother  of  one,  wearing  heavy  metallic  brace¬ 
lets,  came  out  to  take  her  boy  home,  but  first  leading 
him  before  me  for  ‘‘ bucksheesh.”  A  trifling  para  sent 
her  and  the  child  away  with  chattering  delight.  I  asked 
a  little  girl  for  a  drink,  and  soon  she  came  with  a  “  cup 


MODERN  BETHANY. 


275 


of  cold  water.”  0  how  my  heart  yearned  to  lead  the 
child  to  Him  who  richly  rewards  such  an  act,  if  performed 
‘‘in  the  name  of  a  disciple”  !  Matt.  10  :  42. 

The  present  village  of  Bethany  contains  some  twenty 
families.  The  flourishing  fig  and  pomegranate  orchards  and 
vineyards  to  the  north  of  it,  and  the  evident  attempts  to 
improve  the  rocky  hills,  give  signs  of  at  least  some  industry. 
Some  of  the  flat  roofs  were  covered  with  earth  and  grass, 
so  that  it  was  hard  to  tell  whether  the  low  stone  huts 
were  under  or  above  ground.  These  sprinklings  of  grass 
in  the  crevices  and  shallow  earth  of  the  roofs  are  soon 
withered  by  the  hot  sun,  when  the  rain  ceases.  The 
Psalmist  wishes  his  enemies  to  “  be  as  grass  upon  the 
house-tops,  which  withereth  afore  it  groweth  up  ;  where¬ 
with  the  mower  filleth  not  his  hand.”  Psalm  129  :  6,  7. 
Its  dilapidated  and  half-miserable  aspect  is  soon  forgot¬ 
ten  in  its  tender  history ;  for  here  the  three  friends  of 
Jesus  gave  Him  a  home.  When  He  is  weary  of  the 
hypocrisy  and  temptings  of  the  Pharisees  in  Jerusalem, 
He  finds  sympathy  and  a  soothing,  still  home  with  Laza¬ 
rus  and  his  two  sisters.  In  Bethany  we  have  Jesus  as  a 
friend  among  friends,  eating  and  weeping  with  them, 
mingling  in  domestic  intercourse  and  friendly  companion¬ 
ship.  Here  He  hallowed  Home,  and  gave  hospitality  a 
divine  significance.  His  quiet,  heavenly  visits  breathed 
an  air  of  peace  and  purity  around  the  hearth  of  Lazarus. 
Mary  had  been  “  a  sinner,”  (Luke  7  :  39,)  about  which 
she  wept  and  sorrowed  much.  Her  sins,  which  were 
many,  He  forgave,  and  therefore  “  she  loved  much ;  ” 
she  anointed  His  feet  with  precious  ointment,  and  with 
penitent  tears  still  more  precious.  A  sweet  friendship 
was  kindled  between  Jesus  and  this  family.  “  Now 
Jesus  loved  Martha  and  her  sister  and  Lazarus.”  When 


276 


THE  STORY  OF  LAZARUS. 


Lazarus  was  taken  ill,  their  first  thought  for  help  turned 
to  their  Divine  guest.  But  He  is  over  there  at  Betha^ 
bara,  beyond  the  Jordan.  They  speedily  send  for  Him. 

Behold  he  whom  thou  lovest  is  sick.”  They  look  wish¬ 
fully  toward  the  mountains  of  Moab,  near  where  He 
then  was,  and  anxiously  await  the  return  of  the  messen¬ 
ger.  Lazarus  sinks  fast,  and  Jesus  is  not  here.  Why 
this  delay  ?  The  All-Knowing  knows  how  much  we  need 
Him.  But  he  dies,  only  because  his  friend  is  absent. 
“  Lord,  if  thou  hadst  been  here  !  ”  ‘‘  Our  friend  Lazarus 

sleepeth ;  but  I  go  that  I  may  awake  him  out  of  sleep.” 
After  four  long  days  He  comes,  and  bids  ‘‘  Lazarus 
come  forth  ;  ”  but  first  weeps  with  Martha  and  Mary  at 
the  grave  of  their  brother.  What  a  precious  source  of 
consolation,  that  Jesus  wept  at  the  grave  of  a  friend ! 
Since  then  mourners  have  a  Divine  companion  in  sor¬ 
row,  and  the  tears  of  bereaved  believers  are  not  half  so 
distressing.  Nothing  helps  us  more  to  realize  the  sus¬ 
taining  grace  of  Jesus  in  sorrow,  than  to  know  that 
He  could  ‘‘weep  with  them  that  wept.”  Those  life- 
words  of  Jesus  at  the  grave  of  his  friend  still  sound  from 
Bethany,  like  the  softest  music,  to  soothe  and  solace 
earth’s  weeping  mourners.  “  I  am  the  resurrection  and 
the  life  ;  he  that  believeth  in  me,  though  he  were  dead, 
5^et  shall  he  live.”  Like  a  voice  from  Heaven  came  these 
words  to  me  under  that  gnarly  olive  tree,  while  a  few 
children  sat  at  my  feet.  When  the  trials  of  the  cruci¬ 
fixion  cast  their  shadows  over  His  soul,  He  tarries  a  night 
here,  and  receives  sympathy.  It  is  a  small  matter,  but 
very  pleasant  to  me,  that  a  few  women  in  the  narrow 
street  became  types  of  Mary  and  Martha  to  my  mind, 
and  I  seemed  to  see  Lazarus  in  a  young  man  at  work 
near  his  grave.  John  11. 


THE  FRUITS  OF  OLIVET. 


277 


The  trees  on  the  Mount  of  Olives  are  chiefly  olives, 
pomegranates,  and  figs.  Formerly  it  also  contained 
palm,  myrtle,  and  pine  trees.  Nehemiah  8  :  15.  The 
name  of  Bethany  (house  of  dates)  points  to  the  existence 
of  date-palms  around  it ;  and  even  so  late  as  our  Saviour’s 
time  “branches  of  palm-trees^'  were  strewn  in  His  path, 
when  He  came  up  from  Bethany.  But  not  a  sprig  of 
these  remains.  A  short  distance  from  Bethany  a  few 
ruined  walls  crown  a  hill,  which  are  the  traditional  re¬ 
mains  of  Bethphage  (house  of  figs).  Matt.  21  :  1.  The 
fig  trees  skirting  the  roads  and  hanging  along  the  steep 
rocky  sides  of  Olivet  still  speak  of  the  Saviour.  In  the 
beginning  of  April,  when  all  the  others  were  bare  yet, 
He  met  one  with  large  leaves,  which  always  indicate  the 
presence  of  figs ;  but  it  had  no  fruit,  and  so  he  cursed  it 
for  its  hypocrisy ;  and  when  the  disciples  marvelled  at  it, 
He  declared  that  the  prayer  of  faith  had  power  even  to 
remove  this  “  mountain  ”  (Olivet)  into  the  (Mediterranean) 
“sea.” 

We  happened  to  be  at  Jerusalem  in  the  spring.  No 
words  could  better  describe  this  delightful  season  than 
those  of  the  Bible.  “  The  winter  is  past,  the  rain  is  over 
and  gone;  the  flowers  appear  on  the  earth;  the  time  of  the 
singing  of  birds  is  come ;  and  the  voice  of  the  turtle  is 
heard  in  the  land.  The  fig  tree  putteth  forth  her  green 
figs,  and  the  vines,  with  the  tender  grape,  give  a  good 
smell.”  Song  of  Sol.  2  :  11-13.  Solomon’s  description 
of  a  Judean  spring  would  almost  answer  for  one  in  a 
Pennsylvania  latitude.  The  winter  of  Palestine,  and 
especially  of  Judea,  has  for  its  characteristic  the  rainy 
seasons,  instead  of  our  snow  storms  and  icy  colds.  “The 
former  rain”  comes  in  the  fall,  beginning  toward  the 
end  of  October,  and  helps  to  prepare  the  ground  for 
24 


278 


THE  LATTER  RAIN. 


i  c 


9  y 


seeding.  It  continues  until  December.  During  the  whole 
winter  it  rains  at  certain  intervals,  and  some  seasons 
indeed  it  rains  on  till  “  the  latter  rain,”  almost  without 
intermission.  These  copious  showers  tear  up  the  travel¬ 
ling  paths  and  tracks,  and  fill  them  with  slippery  mud, 
almost  impassable  along  the  steep  hill-sides.  The  numer¬ 
ous  ravines  or  wadys  abound  with  wild  rushing  torrents, 
and  no  bridges  to  cross  them.  On  account  of  these  dan¬ 
gerous  roads  our  Saviour  said,  when  he  foretold  the 
destruction  of  Jerusalem :  “But  pray  ye  that  your  flight 
be  not  in  the  winter.”  Matt.  24  :  20. 

“  The  latter  rain”  of  the  Scripture  usually  comes  in 
March,  and  continues  until  April.  Deut.  11  :  14 ;  Jer. 
5  :  24 ;  Joel  2  :  23.  Sometimes  its  accumulated  waters 
dash  through  the  narrow  valleys  of  Judea  like  swollen 
rivers.  The  Kedron,  at  other  times  dry,  sends  a  rush¬ 
ing  torrent  to  the  Dead  Sea.  In  the  spring  of  1857  we 
arrived  at  Jerusalem  toward  the  end  of  the  “latter 
rain.”  At  short  intervals  the  sky  was  clear,  serene,  and 
balmy  as  an  American  June,  continuing  just  long  enough 
to  coax  one  outside  the  walls,  when  suddenly  a  thin 
gauzy  cloud  would  curtain  the  heavens,  and  spill  its  con¬ 
tents  upon  the  earth.  The  hilly  streets  of  Jerusalem 
were  covered  with  a  layer  of  mud.  In  the  middle  of  the 
main  streets  was  an  uncovered  sewer,  draining  the  mud 
from  the  slippery  sloping  side-walks  (the  whole  is  equiva¬ 
lent  to  a  side-W'alk  on  each  side),  where  the  unpractised 
walker  had  no  little  labor  to  keep  out  of  the  gutter.  As 
the  sun  rarely  shone  into  the  narrow  streets,  they  would 
not  dry  betw'een  the  showers.  Now  amid  this  ubiquity 
of  mud,  where  the  heavens  above  and  the  earth  beneath 
are  surcharged  with  water,  where  every  avenue  of  travel 
and  trade  is  obstructed  by  water  torrents,  and  roads 


THE  SEASONS  OF  JUDEA. 


279 


wrought  into  mortar,  we  can  scarcely  conceive  of  the  joy 
which  spring  brings,  when  “the  rain  is  over  and  gone.” 
Then  Jerusalem  is  like  a  swarming  hive.  Through  every 
gate  the  people  pour  to  get  them  to  their  'work  on  hill 
and  in  dell.  Flowers  —  wild  roses,  violets,  and  our  own 
dandelion  —  bloom  along  the  Kedron,  and  among  the 
dreary  Jewish  graves  of  Jehoshaphat.  Every  tree  on 
Olivet  seems  vocal  with  singing  birds,  to  whose  sweet  melo¬ 
dies  the  turtle  coos  a  solemn  bass.  (The  cooing  of  a  dove 
inspires  solemn  emotions  anywhere,  but  especially  in 
sight  of  Jerusalem  and  its  ruined  temple.)  Some  of  the 
fig  trees  on  the  Mount  of  Olives  put  forth  their  leaves, 
while  others  put  forth  their  “green  figs”  before  the 
leaves.  The  vines  on  “the  mountains  round  about  Jeru¬ 
salem  ”  (now  especially  around  Bethany)  blossom  and 
bud  into  leaves,  emitting  pleasant  odors. 

In  Palestine  rains  are  chiefly  confined  to  winter. 
“Snow  in  summer,  and  rain  in  harvest,”  were  things  un¬ 
heard  of  by  the  Jews.  Prov.  26  :  1.  Rain  in  harvest 
only  came  by  a  miracle.  1  Sam.  12  :  17.  While  Jeru¬ 
salem  and  Judea  have  ehanged,  and  their  reputed  holy 
places  excite  doubt  and  embarrassment,  the  climate  and 
many  natural  phenomena  remain  as  they  were  in  the 
days  of  Christ.  Still  the  rains  come  mostly  from  the 
west  and  south-west  —  from  the  vapory  sky  of  the  Medi¬ 
terranean.  Our  Saviour  said,  when  at  Jerusalem :  “When 
ye  see  a  cloud  rise  out  of  the  west,  straightway  ye  say. 
There  cometh  a  shower;  and  so  it  is.”  Luke  12  :  54. 
Warm  and  hot  winds  commonly  blow  from  the  vast  south¬ 
ern  deserts.  All  those  destructive  hot  winds,  called 
siroccos,  blow  from  the  south.  “  And  when  ye  see  the 
south  wind  blow,  ye  say.  There  will  be  heat;  and  it 
cometh  to  pass.”  Luke  12  :  55. 


280  SHEPHERDS  AND  THEIR  FLOCKS. 


In  my  peregrinations  around  Jerusalem  I  repeatedly 
fell  in  with  shepherds  and  their  flocks.  The  little  shepherd 
village  of  Siloam,  in  the  valley  of  Jehoshaphat,  has  several 
large  flocks  of  sheep,  some  of  which  are  housed  after  night 
in  tombs,  and  others  are  kept  in  sheep-folds  made  of  frail 
temporary  fences,  with  a  porter”  to  open  the  gates. 
“He  that  entereth  not  by  the  door  into  the  sheep-fold, 
but  climbeth  up  some  other  way,  the  same  is  a  thief  and 
a  robber.”  John  10  :  1.  Several  mornino;s  I  watched 
them  going  forth  across  the  Mount  of  Olives  toward  the 
uncultivated  hills  of  the  wilderness  of  Judea.  Invariably 
the  shepherd  walked  before;  now’  and  then  I  heard  “his 
voice  ”  calling  the  sheep,  and  the  long  line  followed 
without  any  person  driving  them.  I  noticed  one  very 
large  flock  ;  there  were  no  fences  to  keep  them  together, 
yet  all  “knew  his  voice,”  and  followed  him  over  rocks 
and  ridges  to  their  pasture.  “  And  when  he  putteth 
forth  his  own  sheep,  he  goeth  before  them^  and  the  sheep 
folloiv  him ;  for  they  know  his  voice.  And  a  stranger 
will  they  not  follow,  but  will  flee  from  him ;  for  they 
know  not  the  voice  of  strangers'.  .  .  .  ^  My  sheep  hear 

my  voice  and  I  know  them,  and  they  follow  me.”  John 
10  :  4,  5,  27.  And  if  the  shepherd,  w’hen  he  gets  into 
the  wilderness  of  Judea,  should  perchance  find  that  one 
had  strayed  away  along  the  road,  “  he  will  leave  the 
ninety  and  nine  in  the  wilderness,  and  go  after  that  which 
is  lost  until  he  find  it.”  Luke  15  :  4. 

The  sheep  here  and  elsewhere  in  Palestine  are  mostly 
of  a  large  breed,  with  broad  tails,  consisting  of  a  large 
lump  of  fat  with  the  tail  hanging  out  of  it.  In  many 
flocks  sheep  and  goats  are  mixed.  Gen.  30  :  35.  Goats 
are  filthier,  and  less  valuable  than  sheep.  Jesus  says, 
when  the  Son  of  Man  shall  come  to  judge  mankind. 


CHRIST  AS  A  SHEPHERD. 


281 


‘‘  he  shall  separate  them  one  from  another,  as  a  shepherd 
divideth  his  sheep  from  the  goats  ;  and  he  shall  set  the 
sheep  on  the  right  hand,  but  the  goats  on  the  Uft.'" 
Matt.  25  :  32-33.  Sinful,  erring  souls  are  like  lost  sheep 
that  have  gone  astray  (Psalm  119  :  176);  and  the 
penitents  are  those  who  return  “  to  the  Shepherd  and 
Bishop  of  their  souls.”  1  Peter  2  :  25.  ‘‘  Shepherds 

abiding  in  the  field  keeping  watch  over  their  flock  by 
night,”  received  the  angelic  announcement  of  the  Saviour’s 
birth,  as  a  helpless  child ;  shepherds  calling  their  sheep 
to  pasture  gave  Him  an  image  of  His  character  as  a 
Divine  Shepherd ;  lambs  slain  in  the  temple  became 
types  of  Him  who  was  “brought  as  a  lamb  to  the  slaugh¬ 
ter  ;  and  as  a  sheep  before  her  shearers  is  dumb,  so  he 
opened  not  his  mouth.”  And  when  He  shall  appear  in 
His  glory  as  the  Judge  of  all  the  earth.  His  final  sen¬ 
tence  will  be  like  that  of  a  shepherd  separating  his  sheep 
from  the  goats ;  and  the  redeemed  throng  in  heaven  will 
sing  :  “  Worthy  is  the  Lamb  that  was  slain.”  Isaiah  53  : 
7  ;  Rev.  5  :  12.  What  a  divine  meaning  has  been  given 
to  sheep  and  shepherds  since  the  birth  and  death  of 
Christ ! 


24* 


282  EXCURSION  TO  THE  DEAD  SEA. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


€tiE  of  Siiko — Stritljn — tjie  Snrinn. 


April  13^A. — The  day  after  the  Latin  Easter  we 
started  on  a  three  days’  excursion  to  the  Jordan  and  the 
Dead  Sea.  A  large  caravan  of  Latin  pilgrims  were  like¬ 
wise  going  down.  At  early  dawn  already  they  streamed 
down  the  Via  Dolorosa  toward  the  Kedron  —  horses, 
donkeys,  and  wayworn  footmen,  contending  for  room  in 
the  narrow  street.  After  sending  our  muleteers  with 
tents  and  baggage  several  hours  ahead,  we  rode  out  the 
St.  Stephen’s  gate,  led  by  two  mounted  soldiers,  to  pro¬ 
tect  us  against  robbers.  Both  sides  of  the  road  were 
lined  with  women  and  children,  from  the  wall  down  to 
Gethsemane,  who  had  come  out  to  see  the^pilgrims  start. 
The  latter  rode  quietly  through  these  lines  of  spectators, 
hut  the  women  set  up  a  laughing,  chattering  noise  behind 
their  "white  veils,  wdth  their  heads  all  muffled  up.  Wind¬ 
ing  up  the  oblique  road  of  Olivet,  past  the  gloomy  graves 
of  Jehoshaphat,  we  still  heard  their  strange  noise.  These 
long  lines  of  snow-white  beings  seated  along  the  edge  of 
the  road,  hailing  pilgrims  as  they  passed,  presented  a 
singular  scene  from  a  distance.  So  the  expectant  Jews 
sat  along  the  road  when  they  heard  that  their  Messiah 
was  coming  in  a  triumphal  procession.  We  passed 
through  Bethany,  and  paused  a  moment  before  the  tomb 
of  Lazarus.  On  a  hill-top  beyond  the  village  we  turned 


WILDERNESS  OF  JUDEA. 


283 


our  horses  to  take  a  last  view  of  the  Home  of  Hospi¬ 
tality.  Descending  through  a  rough  valley  we  came  to 
the  spring  of  the  Apostles,  at  the  road-side,  so  called  be¬ 
cause  the  Apostles  rested  and  refreshed  themselves  here 
on  their  way  to  and  from  Jerusalem.  As  there  is  no  other 
spring  or  well  along  the  road,  this  tradition  is  most  proba¬ 
bly  correct.  In  an  arched  niche  within  a  small  pile  of 
crumbling  walls  is  the  fountain,  which  pours  its  clear 
water  into  a  stone  basin.  Along  this  hot  haunted  road, 
such  a  fountain  must  always  have  been  a  noted  watering- 
place  for  travellers  and  shepherds. 

Our  tortuous  road  descended  between  bleak  hills, 
where  flocks  of  sheep  and  goats  were  led  to  pasture  by 
wild-looking  Arabs.  Rarely  a  tree  was  seen,  and  the 
very  small  flne  grass  was  so  thinly  sprinkled  over  the 
surface,  as  to  give  it  but  a  faint  tinge  of  verdure.  We  left 
the  last  trace  of  fertile  vegetation  at  Bethany.  No  house, 
tent,  or  village  relieved  the  dreariness,  only  a  few  strag¬ 
gling  shepherds  with  their  flocks,  who  watched  our  move¬ 
ments  with  suspicious  mien.  It  was  the  sterile  unculti¬ 
vated  wilderness  of  Judea ;  not  an  absolute  sterility  like 
that  of  the  sandy  desert,  but  a  bleak,  cheerless  solitude, 
with  a  little  grass  here  and  there  scarcely  visible.  This 
is  where  the  hermit  prophet,  John  the  Baptist,  preached 
repentance.  Matt.  3  : 1,  4.  The  raiment  of  camel’s  hair  ” 
is  still  worn  among  the  poorer  Arabs,  with  the  “  leathern 
girdle  about  the  loins.”  The  locusts  which  John  ate  are 
still  eaten  by  the  poor,  and  sometimes  also  by  others. 
Burckhart  says :  The  Arabs,  in  preparing  locusts  as  an 
article  of  food,  throw  them  alive  into  boiling  water,  with 
which  a  good  deal  of  salt  has  been  mixed :  after  a  few 
moments  they  are  taken  out  and  dried  in  the  sun.  The 
head,  feet,  and  wings  are  then  torn  off ;  the  bodies  are 


I 


284 


ROBBERS  OF  THE  JORDAN. 


cleansed  from  the  salt  and  perfectly  dried ;  after  which 
whole  sacks  are  filled  with  them  by  the  Bedouins.  They 
are  sometimes  eaten  broiled  in  butter ;  and  they  often 
constitute  materials  for  a  breakfast,  when  spread  over 
unleavened  bread  mixed  with  butter.”  The  wild  honey 
is  still  found  in  abundance,  which  is  relished  very  much. 
Wild  bees  deposit  it  on  the  rocks  in  the  wilderness  of 
Judea,  where  John  the  Baptist  found  and  ate  it. 

The  road  from  Jerusalem  to  Jericho  ”  is  still  infested 
by  thieves  and  robbers.  They  abide  in  the  rock-hewn 
chambers  hanging  over  the  Jordan  valley,  and  in  the 
gorges  of  the  wilderness.  Lurking  in  the  narrow  valleys 
crossing  the  road,  they  sometimes  suddenly  pounce  on 
their  affrighted  victims,  and  strip  them  of  all  they  have. 
Bedouin  banditti,  with  bold  chiefs,  such  as  Barrabas  per¬ 
haps  was,  for  he  ‘‘was  a  robber,”  are  the  constant  terror 
of  all  the  travellers  on  this  road.  No  party  can  pass 
along  here  without  a  military  escort ;  not  even  the  large 
caravans  of  pilgrims,  with  all  their  arms  and  valor. 
This  road  and  region  still  enjoy  their  ancient  celebrity. 
The  long  spears  and  guns  of  our  mounted  Turkish  guard, 
their  watchful  look-out  for  Bedouin  robbers,  and  the  pros¬ 
pect  of  an  attack,  furnished  us  with  interesting  reflections 
on  our  Lord’s  parable  of  the  Good  Samaritan.  It  was  along 
this  road  “  a  certain  man  went  down  from  Jerusalem  to 
Jericho,  and  fell  among  thieves,  which  stripped  him  of  his 
raiment,  and  wounded  him,  and  departed,  leaving  him  half 
dead.”  Luke  10  :  30.  Several  modern  travellers  have 
literally  passed  through  the  same  experience.  One,, 
whose  name  I  cannot  now  recall,  strolled  away  a  short 
distance  from  his  party,  when  he  was  seized  by  a  few 
Bedouins,  stripped  of  money  and  clothing,  and  cruelly 
beaten.  An  Arab  more  merciful  than  his  fellows,  a 


THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN. 


285 


modern  good  Samaritan  ”  found  him  almost  lifeless,  and 
brought  him  back  to  Jerusalem,  where  the  treatment  of 
kind  friends  healed  the  stranger’s  wounds.  A  man  left 
wounded  and  naked,  without  shade,  water,  or  friends  in 
this  murky  region,  and  under  the  fierce  sun  reflected  from 
the  bald  glaring  mountains,  is  in  a  most  pitiful  and  hope¬ 
less  condition.  Jericho  was  then  a  sacerdotal  station, 
whither  priests  frequently  resorted.  And  so  by  chance 
or  “  coincidence  of  circumstances  ”  there  came  down  a 
certain  priest  that  way,”  but  passed  the  wounded  stranger 
by.  Then  a  Levite,  likewise  on  his  way  to  the  priestly 
station.  Then  a  hated  Samaritan,  belonging  to  a  race 
supposed  incapable  of  a  kind  and  good  act.  He  had 
compassion  on  him,  dismounted,  dressed  his  wounds, 
“set  him  on  his  beast  and  brought  him  to  an  inn”  — 
khan  or  caravanserai,  where  man  and  beast  find  shelter 
over  night ;  such  a  one  as  you  still  find  on  the  side  of  a 
hill  half-way  between  Jerusalem  and  Jericho.  The  scene 
of  this  touching  act  of  mercy  casts  a  pleasant  charm  over 
this  haunted  road,  and  the  sweet  story  has  taught  lessons 
of  heavenly  charity  to  the  suffering,  and  their  deliverers 
in  every  age  and  country.  Riding  along  through  this 
dreary  region,  the  rattling  tramp  of  the  horses  started  a 
jackall,  most  likely  the  fox  of  the  Bible.  In  form  and 
color  it  resembles  the  fox.  Not  very  far  south  of  this, 
Samson  caught  three  hundred,  and  made  them  destroy 
the  corn,  vineyards,  and  olives  of  the  Philistines.  Judges 
15.  Their  home  is  in  wild  desolate  regions.  When  the 
mountain  of  Zion  was  desolated,  the  foxes  walked  about 
on  it.  Lamentations  5  :  18.  But  even  “  the  foxes  have 
holes  ”  for  a  dwelling  place,  while  “  the  Son  of  man  had 
not  where  to  lay  his  head.”  Matt.  8  :  20. 

We  overtook  the  pilgrims  about  noon  ;  a  large  confused 


28G 


A  DESOLATE  KEGION. 


crowd  of  people,  most  diverse  in  age,  costume,  and  Ian 
guage.  Mules  carried  a  chair  on  each  side  hung  together 
by  means  of  ropes  and  straps,  in  which  old  men  and 
women  were  comfortably  seated.  The  heads  and  arms 
of  children  stuck  out  from  among  rattling  pans  and  bales 
of  luggage.  Now  they  were  strung  out'  in  a  long  line 
over  the  hills,  then  gathering  into  a  compact  mass  as  a 
safeguard  against  danger.  All  appeared  cheerful  and 
happy,  chattering  as  they  went,  for  they  were  approach¬ 
ing  the  sacred  river  in  which  our  Lord  "was  baptized,  and 
were  about  to  bathe  in  its  famous  waters.  But  few  can 
ever  enjoy  a  pilgrimage  thither.  It  is  generally  the  last 
act  of  a  pilgrim  to  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  to  visit  and  bathe 
in  the  Jordan.  If  possible  he  brings  his  shroud  along 
for  a  bathing  suit,  then  carefully  lays  it  by  for  his  burial. 
To  put  on  one’s  grave-clothes  before  the  time  is  enough 
to  inspire  serious  reflections  anywhere,  and  especially  at 
the  Jordan. 

The  dreariness  of  this  wilderness  ”  I  have  no  language 
to  describe.  It  grows  more  cheerless  as  we  approach  the 
valley  of  the  Jordan.  The  few  straggling  little  birds  and 
blades  of  grass  present  a  picture  neither  of  life  nor  death, 
— shall  I  say  of  the  death  that  never  dies  ?  At  noon-day 
the  air  is  murky  and  hard  to  breathe.  Schubert  depicts  it 
well :  “  The  deserts  of  Egypt  and  Arabia  Petra,  with  their 
sand-wastes  and  rocks,  are  like  a  grave-yard  full  of  signi¬ 
ficant  tomb-stones,  through  which  the  pilgrim  passes  with¬ 
out  a  shudder.  But  the  country  lying  between  Jerusa¬ 
lem  and  Jericho  is  like  a  dying  bed,  on  which  the  last 
spark  of  life  wrestles  with  death,  ever  expiring  without 
being  able  to  die ;  the  gasping  of  a  dying  man  battling 
against  sufibcation  is  to  the  ear  what  the  color  and  form 


VALLEY  OF  THE  JORDAN. 


287 


of  the  miserable  famishing  plants  and  animals  which  pine 
away  here,  are  to  the  eye.” 

It  was  down  to  Jericho  that  a  certain  man  went  from 
Jerusalem,  and  down  it  is  to  this  day.  Though  but 
twenty-five  miles  apart,  Jerusalem  is  4000  feet  above 
Jericho  and  the  Jordan.  On  we  rode  over  naked  hills 
hedged  in  by  larger  ones,  but  all  the  while  down-hill ; 
just  as  we  have  it  in  the  Scripture,  going  up  ”  from  or 

going  down  ”  to  the  Jordan.  Our  road  wound  along  a 
dry  water-course,  and  after  coming  down-hill  so  long  we 
expected  suddenly  to  emerge  out  of  the  rugged  solitude 
into  the  plain  of  Jericho  ;  hut  having  arrived  at  the  edge 
of  the  plain,  we  still  found  it  from  1000  to  2000  feet 
below  us.  The  whole  valley  of  the  Jordan  spread  out, 
all  a  barren  sand-plain,  save  the  green  wheat-fields  around 
Jericho.  The  trees  and  jungle  of  the  Jordan  edged  its 
crooked  channel  with  pleasant  verdure,  but  in  some  places 
even  these  were  wanting.  On  the  opposite  side  the  mas¬ 
sive  mountains  of  Moab  rose  out  of  the  plain  like  a  mighty 
breastwork  of  nature. 

We  threaded  our  way  zigzag  down  a  long  steep  decli¬ 
vity,  with  the  black,  deep  gorge  of  the  brook  Gherith 
immediately  to  our  left.  We  could  look  some  distance 
down  into  the  black  abyss,  without  seeing  the  bottom 
of  the  frowning  cleft,  but  heard  the  roar  and  falling  of 
the  torrent-stream,  far  down.  The  rock-walls  rise  per 
pendicularly  from  the  brook  hundreds  of  feet  in  height, 
and  the  narrow  entrance  resembles  that  of  a  mountain- 
cavern.  “Elijah  went  and  dwelt  by  the  brook  Gherith, 
that  is  before  Jordan.  And  the  ravens  brought  him  bread 
and  flesh  in  the  morning,  and  bread  and  flesh  in  the 
evening;  and  he  drank  of  the  brook.”  1  Kings  17  :  5,  6. 
Here,  then,  in  this  dismal  mountain-gorge,  the  prophet 


288 


ANCIENT  JERICHO. 


Iiid  himself  from  Ahab.  While  looking  at  it  from  the 
base  of  the  mountain,  two  ravens  flew  through  the  narrow 
entrance. 

The  remains  of  an  ancient  aqueduct  extend  along  the 
flowing  brook,  which  possibly  may  have  furnished  ancient 
Jericho  with  water.  Our  path  from  here  led  down  a  gra¬ 
dual  descent,  and  soon  brought  us  to  several  ruins  and 
earth-covered  walls,  marking  the  site  of  the  Scriptural 
Jericho.  Hither  came  Joshua’s  spies  whom  Rahab  con¬ 
cealed.  A  great  and  powerful  place  it  then  was,  the 
only  important  city  in  the  Jordan  valley.  It  was  the 
door  of  Palestine  from  this  quarter.  Two  roads  still  wind 
through  mountain-passes  from  Jericho  into  the  interior 
of  Canaan;  one  south-west  across  Olivet  to  Jerusalem ; 
the  other  north-east  towards  Ai  and  Bethel.  Along  the 
latter  road  the  leader  of  the  Hebrews  went  up  to  Ai  from 
Jericho.  Joshua  8.  It  was  not  owing  to  any  arbitrary 
choice  that  Joshua  commenced  his  invasion  of  the  Pro¬ 
mised  Land.  Coming  from  that  direction  he  here  could 
not  have  done  otherwise.  The  Jewish  caravans  that 
came  up  to  the  festivals,  from  Galilee  and  beyond  Jordan, 
passed  through  Jericho.  Luke  18,  19.  Owing  to  its  luxu¬ 
riant  palm-groves  it  was  anciently  called  “  the  city  of 
palm-trees,”  the  last  solitary  relic  of  which  has  of  late 
years  disappeared.  Heut.  34  :  3 ;  Judges  1  :  16 ;  3  :  13. 

Before  this  proud  city  the  host  of  Joshua  had  encamped. 
The  gates  were  shut ;  ‘‘  none  went  out,  and  none  came 
m.”  A  wandering  nomadic  nation,  with  neither  the  arms 
ind  implements  of  war,  nor  the  skill  to  use  them,  was  to 
take  one  of  the  strongest  and  best-fortified  cities  of  Ca¬ 
naan.  Nothing  short  of  a  miraculous  interposition  of 
Divine  power  could  enable  them  to  do  this.  The  cap¬ 
tain  of  the  Lord’s  host  ”  led  his  army  on  to  battle ;  the 


JERICHO  CURSED. 


289 


people  sliouted  and  the  priests  blew  their  trumpets,  and  the 
walls  fell.  Joshua  5  :  14-16;  6  :  20.  When  Elijah  came 
here,  the  sons  of  the  prophets  that  were  at  Jericho”  came 
out  to  meet  him  ;  and  when  the  water  around  the  city  was 
bitter,  they  got  Elisha  to  heal  it.  2  Kings  2.  Our  Saviour 
came  with  the  Jewish  pilgrims  to  the  festival  at  Jerusa¬ 
lem.  They  had  come  from  Galilee,  down  the  other  side 
of  Jordan,  a  road  which  the  Jews  took  to  avoid  going 
through  Samaria,  whose  people  they  hated.  John  4  :  4,  9. 
Poor  beggars,  as  their  custom  is  to  this  day  in  large 
cities,  placed  themselves  by  the  way-side  without  the 
gate,  to  ask  alms  of  the  multitude  as  they  passed  along. 
Among  the  rest  was  blind  Bartimeus,  who,  when  he 
heard  that  the  Saviour  was  passing  by,  cried,  saying, 
Jesus,  thou  son  of  David,  have  mercy  on  me;”  and  Jesus 
said,  “  Beceive  thy  sight.”  Luke  18.  Then  as  the  mul 
titude  crowded  along  the  streets,  Zaccheus,  the  rich  pub 
lican,  climbs  on  a  sycamore  tree,  to  get  a  glimpse  of  the 
Saviour.  The  Divine  prophet  becomes  his  guest  and 
Redeemer.  Of  all  these  occurrences  one  will  naturally 
think  at  Jericho.  But  the  city,  its  houses  and  inhabit¬ 
ants,  silently  sleep  under  the  still  earth.  No  gates, 
walls,  or  palaces  are  left  to  tell  of  its  former  glory.  Jeri¬ 
cho  was  rebuilt  after  its  destruction  by  Joshua,  whether 
on  the  site  of  the  old  city,  I  am  unable  to  determine.  But 
its  present  desolation,  without  a  house  or  inhabitant, 
makes  one  think  of  the  dreadful  adjuration  of  Joshua : 
“  Cursed  be  the  man  before  the  Lord,  that  riseth  up  and 
buildeth  this  city  Jericho :  he  shall  lay  the  foundation 
thereof  in  his  first-born,  and  in  his  youngest  son  shall  he 
set  up  the  gates  of  it.”  Joshua  6  :  26. 

We  must  not  confound  the  sycamore  of  Zaccheus  with 
the  tall,  smooth-barked  tree  of  that  name  in  America. 


290 


THE  SYCaMOREc 


It  is  a  species  of  fig  tree,  still  planted  by  the  wayside, 
where  Zaccheus  found  it.  It  bears  several  crops  of  figs 
during  the  year,  which  grow  on  short  stems  along  the 
trunk  and  larger  branches,  instead  of  hanging  from  the 
end  of  twigs,  as  the  fruit  of  other  trees.  Some  say  they 
bear  seven  crops  a  year.  Their  figs  are  insipid,  and 
eaten  only  by  the  poorer  classes.  Amos  had  prophesied 
evil  concerning  Jeroboam.  Amaziah  advised  him  to 
flee  from  the  angry  king.  To  show  that  his  descent  and 
social  standing  are  not  enviable,  he  replies  :  “  I  was  no 
prophet,  neither  was  I  a  prophet’s  son ;  but  I  was  an 
herd  man,  and  a  gatfierer  of  sycamore  fruit  Amos  7  : 
14.  Few  but  herdmen,  to  this  day,  gather  sycamore 
figs. 

The  wood  of  the  sycamore  is  soft,  and  in  comparison 
to  the  cedar  is  of  little  value.  Thus  in  Isaiah  the  re¬ 
bellious  Jews  taunt  the  Most  High,  by  saying  when  he 
had  their  sycamores  cut  down :  ‘‘We  will  change  them 
into  cedars.”  Isaiah  9  :  10.  And  in  the  golden  age  of 
the  Hebrews,  we  are  told  that  Solomon  “  made  silver  to 
be  in  Jerusalem  as  stones,  and  cedars  made  he  to  be  as 
the  sycamore  trees  that  are  in  the  vale  (of  Jericho)  for 
abundance.”  1  Kings  10  :  27. 

It  is  a  tender  tree,  seldom  found  on  cold  mountains, 
but  mostly  in  hot  plains  and  valleys.  Generally  it  has 
a  short,  thick  trunk,  with  large  limbs  branching  out  a 
few  feet  from  the  ground,  so  that  Zaccheus  could  easily 
climb  up  ;  its  strong,  thick  roots  strike  deep  into  the 
earth  and  clench  it  fast  with  immovable  firmness.  To 
pluck  up  a  sycamore  tree  is  synonymous  with  an  impos¬ 
sibility.  “  Heaven’s  thunderbolt  may  strike  it  down, 
the  wild  tornado  may  tear  it  to  fragments,  but  nothing 
short  of  miraculous  power  can  fairly  plu^k  it  up  by  the 


"‘THE  SPRING  OF  ELISHA. 


291 


9  9 


root.”  Hence  the  strongest  possible  illustration  we  have 
of  the  omnipotence  of  faith,  even  in  its  smallest  begin¬ 
nings,  is  where  our  Lord  said.  If  ye  had  faith  as  a 
grain  of  mustard-seed,  ye  might  say  unto  this  sycamine 
tree,  Be  thou  plucked  up  by  the  root,  and  be  thou  planted 
in  the  sea;  and  it  should  obey  you.”  Luke  17  :  6. 

In  company  with  our  guards,  we  rode  about  a  mile 
northward,  to  the  spring  of  Elisha.”  The  sable  heads 
of  a  few  half-naked  Bedouins  rose  out  of  the  tall  wheat- 
nelds  near  the  spring.  One  had  taken  his  filthy  gar¬ 
ment  off,  and  was  evidently  on  a  hunt  after  the  dis¬ 
turbers  of  his  peace.  If  ever  this  limpid  fountain  was 
bitter,  I  can  bear  testimony  to  the  sweetness  of  its 
present  waters.  The  stream  swells  to  a  considerable 
size,  and  then  is  led  off  through  small  canals  to  water 
the  plain.  Wherever  this  water  goes,  it  evokes  grass, 
grain,  and  a  profusion  of  flowers.  Our  guards  steered 
a  direct  course  toward  the  modern  village  of  Jericho, 
through  wheat-fields  thick  as  a  brush,  hfumerous  Nakb 
or  thorn  trees,  grew  on  this  fertile  part,  looking  from  a 
distance  like  apple  orchards,  whose  branches  were  vocal 
with  the  plaintive  cooing  of  the  turtle.  The  abundance 
of  wild  flowers  filled  the  air  with  pleasant  odors. 

By  the  time  we  arrived  at  the  village,  our  servants 
and  muleteers  had  erected  the  tents  immediately  outside 
of  it,  and  Mahommed  had  a  dinner  waiting  for  us,  far 
superior  to  any  that  our  host  Antonio  at  Jerusalem  could 
furnish.  The  pilgrims  had  encamped  east  of  the  village. 
They  had  but  few  tents,  even  old  men  and  women  had 
to  content  themselves  with  a  roofless  abode  and  bed  on 
the  bare  earth.  To  secure  themselves  against  robbers, 
they  crowded  close  together.  Columns  of  smoke  curled 
up  from  their  numerous  fires.  The  diversity  of  costume 


292 


MODERN  JERICHO. 


and  faces,  of  age  and  color,  composed  a  scene  of  varie¬ 
gated  interest.  Some  were  cooking,  some  eating,  some 
smoking,  some  feeding  their  animals,  all  apparently  talk¬ 
ing  and  contributing  their  mite  to  the  din  and  chattering 
noise  which  filled  the  air.  It  recalled  the  image  of  the 
Hebrew  encampment  at  Gilgal,  scarcely  a  mile  from 
here,  and  furnished  a  vivid  picture  of  the  Jewish  cara¬ 
vans  passing  through  here  on  their  way  to  the  feasts  at 
Jerusalem.  Usually  they  tarried  at  Jericho  over  night. 
All  classes  joined  in  the  caravan  without  distinction  of 
age  or  rank.  The  young,  who  take  an  infinite  delight 
in  such  a  novel  travelling  assemblage,  often  stray  from 
parents,  sometimes  walk  with  some  relatives  in  a  remote 
part  of  the  caravan,  so  that  their  absence  does  not  always 
alarm  the  parents.  It  was  in  such  a  crowd  that  the 
youthful  son  of  Mary  was  lost.  At  first  they  thought 
he  had  joined  himself  to  “their  kinsfolk  and  acquaint¬ 
ance”  who  were  in  advance  of  them.  Not  finding  him 
here  they  became  alarmed,  and  “  after  three  days  found 
him  in  the  temple.”  Luke  2. 

Rihah,  the  present  village  of  Jericho,  is  not  far  from 
the  site  of  the  ancient  city,  possibly  on  part  of  its  terri¬ 
tory.  It  contains  forty  or  fifty  houses,  miserable  hovels 
roofed  with  brushwood,  corn  stalks,  and  gravel.  Small 
yards  are  before  some  of  the  huts,  with  sheds  of  brush¬ 
wood  roofs.  At  one  side  of  the  village  is  a  square  tower 
some  forty  feet  high,  fast  falling  to  ruin.  Like  the 
ancient  Jericho,  it  must  have  a  wall  around  it,  less  for¬ 
midable  however  than  that  of  its  predecessor.  This 
simply  consists  of  a  hedge  of  dry  thorn  bushes,  heaped 
up  and  platted  into  a  fence,  whose  sharp  pins  are  a 
terror  to  man  and  beast,  keeping  out  dogs,  leopards,  and 
hyenas.  The  inhabitants  are  a  thievish  clan,  who  are 


INHABITANTS  OF  KlHAH. 


293 


willing  to  rob  and  plunder,  provided  it  cost  but  little 
effort.  Their  indolence  is  proof  against  filth,  fleas,  and 
famine.  They  and  their  animals  live  in  the  same  pen, 
and  share  their  vermin  in  common.  Robinson  says : 
‘‘  They  are  a  mongrel  race,  between  the  Bedouin  and 
Hudhry,  disowned  and  despised  of  both.” 

There  was  a  time  when  “  all  the  plain  of  Jordan  was 
well  w^atered  everywhere,  before  the  Lord  destroyed 
Sodom  and  Gomorrah,  even  as  the  garden  of  the  Lord, 
like  the  land  of  Egypt.”  Gen.  13  :  10.  The  streams 
which  then  watered  it  are  still  here.  Three  springs  well 
out  of  the  mountain,  and  spread  tangled  thickets  along 
their  currents,  and  carry  fertility  wherever  they  go. 
But  the  unwatered  soil  remains  arid  sand.  Even  now,  in 
its  neglected  condition,  the  green  fields  and  thorn-trees 
spread  over  the  watered  parts  around  Jericho,  present  a 
charming  contrast  to  the  sterile  waste  elsewhere.  The 
little  farming  which  the  soil  receives,  is  done  on  shares 
by  a  foreign  tribe  of  Bedouins. 

When  Joshua  came  up  from  the  Jordan  to  Gilgal,  near 
Jericho,  a  large  palm  grove  graced  the  plain,  nearly 
three  miles  broad  and  eight  miles  long,  perhaps  remind¬ 
ing  him  of  the  magnificent  palm  forest  which  he  had 
seen  around  Memphis  in  Egypt.  Vast  fields  of  wheat 
and  barley  waved  their  golden  heads  among  the  long 
vistas  of  palm-columns.  Over  the  tree  tops  were  seen 
the  w’alls  and  towers  of  the  city ;  perhaps  they  could 
even  see  the  house  of  Rahab,  which  “was  upon  the 
town  wall,”  from  which  she  let  down  the  spies  by  a 
cord.  Beyond  rose  the  rugged  “mountain,”  skirting 
the  Wilderness  of  Judea,  where  the  spies  hid  themselves 
for  three  days,  while  their  pursuers  sought  them  on  the 
way  to  the  Jordan.  Holes,  like  doors,  are  seen  along 
25=^ 


294 


GILG  AL. 


its  rough  and  almost  perpendicular  sides,  leading  into 
hermit-cells.  This  same  mountain,  with  its  gorges  and 
caves,  which  furnished  a  shelter  to  Elijah  and  the  spies, 
now  shelters  the  robbers  that  infest  this  region.  Joshua 
2  :  15-22. 

On  a  rising  ground,  about  a  mile  or  two  from  Jericho, 
stood  Gilgal,  now  without  a  stone  to  mark  its  site.  Here 
the  Israelites  “rolled  away  the  reproach”  of  their  uncir¬ 
cumcision.  Here  was  the  first  resting-place  of  the  Ark  of 
the  Covenant,  where  they  held  their  first  Passover  in  the 
Land  of  Promise.  Monumental  stones  were  reared  here, 
not  only  that  their  “.children,”  but  “all  the  people  of 
the  earth,  might  know  the  band  of  the  Lord,  that  it  is 
mighty.”  Joshua  4 

At  Gilgal,  as  at  Bethel,  was  the  centre  of  the  Jewish 
government  and  worship  for  awhile.  Here  Saul  was 
made  king,  and  Samuel  judged  the  people.  Here  was 
the  school  of  the  prophets  under  Elijah  and  Elisha,  where 
the  kingdom  was  renewedly  given  to  David,  after  the 
defeat  of  Absalom.  1  Sam.  11  :  15 ;  2  Sam.  19  :  15,  40. 
It  was  at  the  threshold  of  Canaan,  —  a  luxuriant  sample 
of  its  fertility  —  the  first  fruitful  garden-spot  they  had 
met  on  their  whole  pilgrimage.  The  productive  wheat- 
fields  at  Jericho,  perhaps  a  few  miles  in  circumference, 
and  the  only  fruitful  spot  of  the  kind  in  this  region,  were 
just  beginning  to  whiten,  and  furnished  a  striking  pic¬ 
ture  of  the  wheat  of  old  Jericho.  The  next  day  they 
“  did  eat  of  the  old  corn  [grain]  of  the  land,  unleavened 
cakes  and  parched  corn.”  Joshua  5.  Still  the  Arabs 
eat  roasted  wheat  and  unleavened  cakes.  The  day  fol¬ 
lowing  “the  manna  ceased,”  and  “  they  did  eat  of  the 
fruit  of  the  land  of  Canaan  that  year.”  Even  so  will  it 
be  with  the  Christian  pilgrim.  So  long  as  he  journeys 


CHRIST  TEMPTED. 


295 


through  earth’s  wilderness  he  gets  his  manna  through 
sacraments  and  means.  Once  he  has  crossed  the  Jordan 
into  the  Canaan  above,  where  the  bread  of  life  grows  as 
a  native  plant,  the  manna  will  cease. 

High  up  on  the  edge  of  the  Wilderness  of  Judea  we 
saw  from  here  a  chapel,  marking  the  traditional  spot  of 
our  Saviour’s  temptation.  After  His  baptism  in  the 
Jordan,  He  ‘‘  was  led  up  of  the  spirit  into  the  wilderness 
to  be  tempted  of  the  devil.”  Matt.  4  :  1.  Whether  His 
forty  days’  fasting  and  temptation  occurred  in  this  wil¬ 
derness,  or  in  that  of  the  opposite  mountains  of  Moah, 
in  either  case  the  retired  locality  would  be  suited  for 
His  rigid  and  trying  work. 

We  retired  to  our  tents  weary,  but  delighted  with  the 
excursions  of  the  day.  At  our  evening  devotions  we 
read  the  narrative  of  our  Saviour  and  Zaccheus  at  Jericho. 
There  is  no  guide-book  like  the  Bible  for  Palestine.  As 
my  custom  was,  I  looked  at  and  listened  to  the  night, 
impenetrably  dark.  A  few  lights  glimmered  from  the 
pilgrim  encampment.  The  Dipper  and  the  North  Star, 
Orion  and  the  Pleiades,  shone  with  unusual  brightness 
through  the  thick  darkness.  A  great  multitude  of  tree- 
toads,  from  neighboring  woods,  filled  the  air  with  familiar 
croakings,  and  called  up  associations  of  home.  A  few 
pilgrim  voices  were  heard  in  the  distance ;  a  child’s  voice 
from  the  village,  and  the  occasional  baying  of  a  half- 
starved  prowling  w’atch-dog.  These  are  little  things  to 
talk  and  write  about ;  but  they  belong  to  the  scene,  and 
evoked  thoufijhts  and  emotions  which  I  am  unwilling  to 

o  o 

forget. 

It  proved  a  restless  night.  The  guards  of  the  several 
encampments  kept  up  a  discharge  of  musketry  till  morn¬ 
ing,  to  proclaim  their  prowess  to  the  robbers  round  about 


296  WILD  BEASTS  OF  THE  JORDAN. 


Jericho,  who  troubled  us  less  than  the  vermin  of  the 
doomed  city.  Long  before  daybreak  the  pilgrims  started 
their  long  procession,  illuminated  with  numerous  torches. 
A-t  early  dawn  we  mounted  our  horses,  and  rode  off 
along  the  western  side  of  the  village,  whose  tenants 
were  lying  about  here  and  there  in  their  half-open  frail 
abodes.  Birds  warbled  their  early  melodies  as  we  rode 
away  from  the  shadow  of  old  Jericho.  We  soon  got 
beyond  green  fields  into  the  uneven  sand-plain  of  an  arid 
desert.  About  an  hour  from  the  Jordan  we  passed  down 
the  first  bank  into  a  region  thickly  covered  with  brush¬ 
wood,  in  which  wild 'beasts  still  hide.  About  ten  minutes 
before  reaching  the  river  we  crossed  the  second  bank, 
likewise  covered  with  jungle.  In  ancient  times,  when 
the  swellings  of  Jordan  flowed  out  to  this  bank,  it  drove 
the  howling  beasts  out  of  their  lairs.  “Behold,  he  shall 
come  up  like  a  lion  from  the  swelling  of  Jordan  against 
the  habitation  of  the  strong.”  Jeremiah  49  :  19.  The 
lion  has  disappeared,  but  the  wild  boar,  jackal,  and  wolf 
still  flee  before  the  swellings  of  the  river.  Birds  hid  in 
the  bushes ;  reptiles  and  tigers  then  sought  refuge  here, 
and  were  all  driven  out  when  the  water  “  overflowed  the 
hiding  place.”  Isaiah  28  :  17. 

The  long  merry  cavalcade  of  pilgrims  passed  us  on  their 
return,  some  with  dripping  garments,  all  bearing  stone  or 
stick,  as  a  sacred  memento  of  their  visit.  Their  aspect  was 
rather  that  of  merriment  than  devout  enthusiasm.  Whole 
families,  man,  wife,  and  children,  sat  on  their  single  mule 
or  camel,  cheerily  chatting.  When  pilgrims  reach  the 
river,  they  dismount  and  perform  their  baths  in  a  very 
matter-of-fact  style.  Some  plunge  in  naked ;  others  in 
their  white  winding-sheets.  Without  levity  or  indecorum, 
a  primitive  or  domestic  simplicity  pervades  the  whole 


MILITARY  EVOLUTIONS. 


297 


transaction.  Whole  families  bathe  together.  The  father 
receives  the  infant  from  the  mother,  and  gives  the  poor 
thing  a  complete  immersion.  This  will  sufl&ce  for  a  life¬ 
time,  and  save  it  the  danger  and  expense  of  a  future  pil¬ 
grimage  when  grown  up.  As  their  advance  guards  ap¬ 
proached  ours,  one  of  each  suddenly  gave  spurs  to  his 
horse,  and  rode  round  in  a  circle  in  opposite  directions. 
Their  loose  robes  flew  and  fluttered  in  the  air  as  their 
steeds  dashed  wildly  over  the  plain,  still  narrowing  the 
circle,  until  they  simultaneously  approached  at  full  speed, 
wdth  their  spears  levelled  between  the  thumb  and  fore¬ 
finger,  ready  for  a  dart.  Just  as  they  seemed  to  tilt 
together  in  dire  collision,  they  tore  their  steeds  back  on 
the  haunches  with  a  savage  look  and  thrilling  yell  that 
sent  a  cold  shudder  over  me.  They  seem  to  delight  in 
these  sporting  evolutions ;  no  matter  how  suddenly  the 
horses  stop  or  whirl  round,  they  sit  as  firmly  in  the  saddle 
as  if  they  were  part  and  parcel  of  the  beast.  It  reminded 
me  of  the  encounter  of  the  knight  of  the  Couchant  Leo¬ 
pard,  and  Sheerkohf,  the  Lion  of  the  Mountain,  in 
Walter  Scott’s  Talisman,”  which  occurred  not  far  south 
of  this. 

My  first  thought  on  the  hanks  of  the  Jordan  was  one 
of  disappointment  as  to  its  size.  The  Rhine  and  the  Nile 
already  appeared  small,  compared  with  our  American 
rivers,  but  the  Jordan  is  not  half  as  large  as  either.  In 
spite  of  descriptions  and  figures,  we  retain  our  youthful 
ideas  of  holy  streams  and  places.  Our  early  impressions, 
however  fanciful,  are  often  the  most  lasting.  I  was, 
therefore,  ill  prepared  to  find  a  stream  not  one  hundred 
feet  wide.  The  current  was  strong  and  rapid,  and  the 
water  slightly  muddy.  Only  the  most  expert  swimmers 
could  reach  the  opposite  shore  without  being  carried  down 


298  TOPOGRAPHY  OF  THE  JORDAN. 


the  Stream.  At  some  places  the  channel  is  wider,  and  at 
others  narrower,  than  here.  Thick  patches  of  reed  or 
cane,  like  broom-corn,  are  found  at  some  places  along  the 
river.  They  are  slender,  and  easily  bent  by  a  breath  of 
air.  John  was  baptizing  among  these  cane  fields,  and 
hence  our  Saviour  says:  “What  went  ye  out  into  the 
wilderness  to  see  ?  A  reed  shaken  by  the  wind  ?”  Matt. 
11  :  7.  The  water  is  from  five  to  twelve  feet  deep.  The 
forest  of  willow,  sycamore,  poplar,  and  tamarisk  trees 
along  here  is  almost  impenetrable. 

The  valley  of  the  Jordan  is  here  from  ten  to  twelve 
miles  wide ;  further 'north  it  is  narrower.  It  is  formed 
by  the  lofty  range  of  the  mountains  of  Moab  on  the  East, 
and  on  the  West,  along  here,  by  the  abrupt  mountain 
heights  of  Judea.  This  whole  plain,  up  to  the  Sea  of 
Galilee,  could,  with  little  labor,  be  made  fertile  as  a  gar¬ 
den  ;  now  it  is  one  continuous  desert,  save  the  green  spot 
around  Jericho.  The  Nile  strews  the  sand  along  its 
banks,  as  if  by  magic,  with  exuberant  fertility,  and  gives 
bread  to  Egypt;  while  the  Jordan  has  ever  been  useless 
in  this  respect.  The  depth  of  its  channel  has  ever  con¬ 
fined  its  waters  within  its  several  banks.  The  tropical 
sun,  which  promotes  vegetation  wherever  the  soil  receives 
the  vitalizing  touch  of  water,  withers  and  burns  up  all 
beyond  its  reach.  It  is  the  great  watering-place  for  the 
Bedouin  tribes,  but  its  plain  remains  an  arid  waste. 
Josephus  says  the  Jordan  flows  “  through  a  desert.”  A 
region  which,  four  thousand  years  ago,  was  “  as  the  gar¬ 
den  of  the  Lord,”  is  now  a  plain  of  simmering  sand,  with 
a  few  stunted  thorn-bushes,  and  multitudes  of  creeping 
things.  Besides  Jericho  and  Gilgal,  scarcely  a  single  city 
or  village  ever  rose  on  its  plain.  Although  it  is  the  river 
of  Palestine,  all  its  other  streams  being  small  in  com- 


MOHAMMEDAN  ABLUTIONS. 


299 


parison  with  it,  I  know  not  that  it  has  contributed  a 
single  element  to  the  civilization  of  the  plain  through 
which  it  winds  its  tortuous  course. 

Nature  sends  streams  out  of  the  neighboring  moun¬ 
tains  sufficient  to  water  the  arid  sand,  and  make  these 
“solitary  places  glad,  and  the  wilderness  blossom  as  the 
rose.”  But  the  torpid  sluggards  will  rather  rob  than 
labor.  The  citizens  of  the  plain  have  been  ever  more  or 
less  noted  for  this.  Tropical  climates  enervate  and  pro¬ 
duce  languor.  Owing  to  the  depression  of  the  valley,  the 
summers  are  intolerably  hot,  and  here  they  extend 
through  the  greater  part  of  the  year.  This  has  made 
the  Arabs  of  the  Jordan  valley  much  darker  than  those 
of  the  highlands  of  Palestine.  Their  harvests  are  a 
month  earlier  than  those  of  Jerusalem  and  the  plains  of 
Samaria. 

Why  did  John  select  this  region  to  preach  and  baptize? 
It  was  unfrequented  and  retired,  and  then  “  there  was 
much  water  there.”  Ablution  has  always  been  more  or 
less  of  a  religious  practice  in  the  East,  both  among  Jews 
and  pagans.  Every  synagogue,  if  possible,  was  near  a 
spring  or  stream ;  and  every  Mohammedan  mosque  has 
a  fountain.  If  there  is  no  spring  at  hand,  it  is  brought 
through  aqueducts,  sometimes  over  many  miles.  The 
Mohammedan  always  washes  himself  before  he  prays. 
The  Koran  says,  if  he  is  on  a  journey  through  a  sandy 
desert,  where  no  water  is,  he  shall  bathe  and  wash  in  the 
sand  before  prayer.  Baptism  or  ablution  was  then  nothing 
new,  but  the  doctrine  of  John  was.  Erom  here  we  date 
that  holy  sacrament  which  has  brought  a  Jordan  into 
every  congregation  in  Christendom,  and  the  Holy  Ghost 
wherever  God  is  worshipped  “in  spirit  and  in  truth.” 

Ancient  names  usually  express  some  characteristic 

P 


300 


COURSE  OF  THE  JORDAN. 


feature  of  the  things  to  which  tliey  were  applied.  Hence 
this  river  is  called  ‘‘the  Jordan,”  which  means  “the 
Descender.”  From  its  source  to  its  termination  it  abounds 
with  falls  and  rapids.  It  springs  in  the  fork  of  the  Anti- 
Libanus,  and  immediately  rushes  down  the  mountain  side 
into  a  swampy  plain,  where  it  forms  the  Lake  of  Merom. 
It  emerges  from  this  through  the  beginnings  of  its  sin¬ 
gular  valley,  and  in  a  distance  of  scarcely  more  than 
twenty  miles,  descends  three  hundred  feet  into  the  Sea 
of  Galilee.  From  here  again  it  plunges  over  twenty- 
seven  rapids  down  toward  the  Dead  Sea,  through  an 
aggregate  fall  of  a  thousand  feet.  Its  impetuous  torrent 
tumbles  hither  and  thither  in  this  confined  crooked  chan¬ 
nel,  as  if  constantly  struggling  to  escape  from  its  limita¬ 
tions.  The  distance  between  the  Dead  Sea  and  the  Sea 
of  Galilee  is  in  a  straight  line  but  sixty  miles,  and  along 
the  devious  course  of  the  Jordan  it  is  over  two  hundred. 
This  deep  valley  of  the  Jordan  extends  between  these 
mountain  chains  to  the  Gulf  of  Akaba,  the  eastern  arm 
of  the  Red  Sea. 

The  river  therefore  has  three  distinct  stages  or  halting- 
places  ;  the  first  in  the  Lake  of  Merom,  the  second  in  the 
Sea  of  Galilee,  the  third  in  the  Dead  Sea.  The  first  two 
must  ever  have  served  as  regulators  in  its  annual  swell¬ 
ings.  For  without  them  the  melting  snows  of  Lebanon 
and  the  accumulated  floods  of  winter  rains  would  have 
raised  the  small  river  into  a  destructive  deluge,  scattering 
desolation  in  its  track. 

The  overflowings  of  the  Jordan  are  not  so  extensive 
now  as  they  were  in  the  days  of  Joshua.  Then  it  over¬ 
flowed  all  its  banks  all  the  time  of  harvest.  Joshua  3  : 15. 
In  the  vale  of  the  Jordan,  harvest  comes  from  the  middle 
of  March  to  the  beginning  of  April.  When  the  copious 


ABRAM  AND  LOT. 


301 


winter  showers  and  the  melting  snows  of  Hermon  and 
Lebanon  have  replenished  the  springs,  and  send  their 
rushincr  freshet-torrents  into  the  river,  then  it  still  “over- 
floweth  its  banks.”  If  its  freshets  are  not  so  high  and 
impetuous  as  in  ancient  times,  it  is  doubtless  owing  in 
part  to  the  clearing  away  of  the  forests  of  Lebanon  and 
Hermon. 

Here  then  at  last  I  stand  on  the  banks  of  that  sacred 
river  whose  history  is  interwoven  with  the  relisrion  of 
my  childhood !  How  those  innocent,  pure  memories 
crowded  into  my  mind  as  I  quietly  looked  at  the  rapid 
stream !  The  Jordan  of  my  childhood,  whose  sweet 
stories,  as  taught  me  by  a  mother’s  love,  was  a  different 
stream.  It  was  wider  and  more  difficult  to  cross.  She 
has  crossed  over  into  the  Promised  Land,  and  as  I  ap¬ 
proach  its  banks,  the  Jordan  of  death  seems  to  narrow 
and  the  crossing  to  become  less  perilous. 

Up  there,  on  one  of  those  conical  hills,  between  Bethel 
and  Hai,  stood  two  earnest  men,  almost  forty  centuries 
ago,  looking  down  into  this  plain,  then  fertile  as  “the 
land  of  Egypt.”  There  was  a  strife  between  their  herd- 
men  because  they  had  not  room  for  all  their  herds.  The 
peaceful  Abram  asked  Lot  to  choose  either  on  “  the  right 
hand”  or  on  “the  left  hand.”  “Then  Lot  chose  him 
all  the  plain  of  Jordan,”  and  “Abram  dwelled  in  the 
land  of  Canaan.”  Gen.  13.  On  his  return  to  Canaan, 
Jacob  says  :  “  With  my  staff  I  passed  over  this  Jordan, 
and  now'  I  am  become  two  bands.”  Gen.  32  : 10. 

On  the  opposite  side  the  Hebrew  nation  had  encamped 
for  the  last  night.  The  priests  bore  the  ark  of  the 
covenant,  and  “  as  their  feet  w'ere  dipped  in  the  brim  of 
the  water,  it  separated,  and  all  the  Israelites  passed  over 
on  dry  ground.”  Joshua  3.  The  twelve  monumental 
20 


302 


THE  PLAIN  OF  MOAB. 


stones  set  up  in  tlie  midst  of  the  Jordan,  and  the  other 
twelve  at  Gilgal,  are  no  longer  seen.  But  the  river  and 
“the  salt  sea”  which  drained  its  channel  dry,  are  still 
here,  more  enduring  and  impressive  monuments  than 
those  made  with  hands. 

On  the  opposite  side,  about  three  miles  from  the  Jor¬ 
dan,  rose  the  mountains  of  Moab,  from  two  to  three 
thousand  feet  in  height.  The  intervening  plain  is  still 
more  or  less  covered  with  shittim  (accacia)  trees.  It  was 
at  Shittim^  perhaps  amid  a  grove  of  these  shittim  (thorns) 
trees,  that  the  Israelites  were  encamped.  Joshua  3  :  1. 
The  greenish  hue  of  the  mountain  showed  that  it  still 
gives  grass  to  the  pastoral  tribes  beyond  the  Jordan. 
From  those  lofty  summits  two  men  successively  obtained 
views  of  Canaan ;  both  were  seers,  but  of  opposite  dis¬ 
positions  and  motives.  The  children  of  Israel  had 
“pitched  in  the  plains  of  Moab,”  between  the  Jordan 
and  the  mountain,  right  across  the  river  from  us.  The 
King  of  Moab  “  was  sore  afraid  of  the  people,  because 
they  were  many.”  He  sent  for  Balaam,  saying:  “I 
pray  thee,  curse  me  this  people.”  On  the  mountain  top 
Balak  the  King  had  erected  an  altar  to  Baal.  Hither 
he  brought  Balaam ;  “  up  unto  the  high  places  of  Baal, 
that  thence  he  might  see  the  utmost  part  of  the  people.” 
Numb.  22.  There  stood  the  Assyrian  prophet  with  the 
King  of  Moab  by  his  side,  still  half-terrified  from  the 
unexpected  and  startling  angelic  message. 

“His  wild  hair  floating  on  the  eastern  breeze, 

His  tranc’d,  yet  open,  gaze 
Fix’d  on  the  desert  haze. 

As  one  who  deep  in  heaven  some  airy  pageant  sees.'' 


BALAAM  AND  ISRAEL. 


303 


Seven  altars  were  erected  three  times,  at  different 
places.  But  all  to  no  purpose.  The  curse  will  not  come. 
‘‘  How"  shall  I  curse  whom  God  hath  not  cursed  ?  ”  Or 
as  the  New  Testament  has  it,  “If  God  be  for  us,  who 
shall  be  against  us  ?  ”  From  those  high  places  he  saw 
the  tents  of  Israel  amid  the  trees,  streams,  and  aromatic 
shrubs  of  the  plain,  an  innumerable  host.  “From  the 
top  of  the  rocks  I  see  him,  and  from  the  hills  I  behold 
him.  Who  can  count  the  dust  of  Jacob  and  the  number 
of  the  fourth  part  of  Israel.”  And  then,  seeing  the  lines 
of  tents  along  the  river,  he  breaks  forth  in  their  praise : 
“  How  goodly  are  thy  tents,  0  Jacob,  and  thy  taber¬ 
nacles,  0  Israel !  As  the  valleys  are  they  spread  forth, 
as  gardens  hy  the  river  side.”  Numbers  24.  Then  ho 
turned  him  round  on  his  lofty  tower  toward  the  table¬ 
lands  of  Moab,  looking  at  the  mountains  stretching  down  to 
Edom  ;  over  the  high  wilderness  beyond  the  Dead  Sea, 
where  dwelt  Amalek ;  to  Engeddi,  where  dwelt  the  Ken- 
ite,  —  all  in  full  view;  and  poured  forth  his  plaintive 
dirge  for  each  one. 

Not  long  after  this,  while  the  “  goodly  tents  of  Jacob  ” 
were  still  strewn  over  the  plain,  “  Moses  went  up  from 
the  plains  of  Moab,  unto  the  mountain  of  Nebo,  to  the 
top  of  Pisgah,  that  is  over  against  Jericho ;  and  the 
Lord  showed  him  all  the  land”  of  Canaan,  even  “unto 
the  utmost  sea,”  which  is  the  Mediterranean.  Deut.  34. 

The  precise  spot  of  Pisgah  is  not  known.  The  few 
modern  travellers  who  have  visited  the  summit  of  the 
mountain,  say  that  its  view  literally  embraces  almost  the 
whole  scope  of  Canaan.  There  are  few  places  in  Pales¬ 
tine  where  this  high  mountain  barrier  does  not  loom  up 
into  view.  Down  in  Beersheba,  from  the  districts  of 
Bethlehem  and  Jerusalem,  from  the  regions  of  Gilead, 


304 


MOSES  ON  PISGAH. 


Naphtali,  and  Dan,  its  half-verdant  ridges  rise  on  the 
horizon.  Through  the  wide  openings  in  the  hills  Moses 
looked  up  to  Jerusalem  and  Bethel.  He  could  see  the 
mountains  of  Samaria  and  Galilee  up  to  Hermon  and 
Lebanon.  Ebal  and  Gerizim  were  distinctly  in  view, 
where  he  requested  his  people  to  read  the  blessings  and 
curses.  Deut.  27.  He  saw  the  land ;  but  the  Jordan, 
with  its  deep  valley,  rolled  between.  How  tenderly  he 
had  pleaded  with  God  to  tread  its  sacred  soil :  “  I  pray 
thee,  let  me  go  over,  and  see  this  goodly  land  that  is 
beyond  Jordan,  that  goodly  mountain,  and  Lebanon  ”  ! 
But  in  vain.  This. only  was  granted  to  him  :  “  Get  thee 
up  into  the  top  of  Pisgah,  and  lift  up  thine  eyes  west¬ 
ward,  and  northward,  and  southward,  and  eastward,  and 
behold  it  with  thine  eyes  :  for  thou  shalt  not  go  over 
this  Jordan.”  Deut.  3  :  25,  27.  Turning  away  from  it, 
he  crosses  the  Jordan  of  death  into  the  Canaan  above. 
“  Lo!  Moses,  the  servant  of  the  Lord,  died  there,  in  the 
land  of  Moab,  according  to  the  word  of  the  Lord.” 

The  land  beyond  the  Jordan  became  a  resort  for  fugi¬ 
tives  and  exiles.  In  the  green  uplands  of  Moab  David 
found  shelter  from  his  wicked  and  ungrateful  Absalom. 
It  was  at  Mahanaim,”  where  “the  angels  of  God” 
met  Jacob ;  here  too  he  divided  his  people  into  “  two 
hosts,”  when  he  heard  that  Esau  was  coming  out  to 
meet  him.  Gen.  32  :  1-7.  And  when  Saul  was  defeated 
and  slain  at  Gilboa,  Abner  took  his  son,  Ishbosheth, 
and  brought  him  over  across  the  Jordan  to  Mahanaim. 
David  crossed  the  Jordan  at  the  fords  of  Jericho,  near 
where  we  stood.  Like  a  weary  hart,  faintly  fleeing  be¬ 
fore  its  cruel  pursuers,  he  climbs  the  mountain,  thinking 
of  his  dear  Jerusalem,  of  which  he  takes  a  parting  view 


DEATH  OF  THE  LAWGIVEKS.  ?05 

on  the  summit.  Amid  such  circumstances  and  trials 
he  must  have  uttered  the  42d  Psalm  : 

“  As  the  heart  panteth  after  the  water  brooks, 

So  panteth  my  soul  after  thee,  0  God/^ 

Then  there  was  much  grass  around  Mahanaim,  and 
rich  tribes  with  great  herds.  David  and  his  people  were 
“hungry,  weary,  and  thirsty;”  the  hospitable  tribes 
brought  them  “butter,  and  sheep,  and  cheese  of  kine,” 
and  other  things  for  their  relief.  Still  the  tribes  around 
it  graze  their  herds  on  its  rich  pastures.  2  Sam.  17. 

Then  came  Elijah  and  Elisha,  the  one  dividing  the 
waters  of  the  Jordan,  and  ascending  to  Heaven  while  he 
throws  his  mantle  on  his  successor.  From  the  Mount  of 
Olives,  the  places  can  be  seen  from  where  the  three  great 
lawgivers,  Moses,  Elijah,  and  Jesus,  departed  into  Para¬ 
dise.  Olivet  and  Pisgah,  the  two  extreme  points,  are 
about  thirty  miles  apart.  All  three  disappeared  in  an 
extraordinary  and  miraculous  manner.  From  the  top  of 
Tabor,  where  the  three  had  an  interview  at  Christ’s 
transfiguration,  I  also  saw  Moab. 

Up  there  among  those  desolate  hills,  John  the  Baptist, 
the  second  Elias,  was  preaching.  “  Then  went  out  to 
him  Jerusalem  and  all  Judea,  and  all  the  region  round 
about  Jordan,  and  were  baptized  of  him  in  Jordan,  con¬ 
fessing  their  sins.”  Matt.  3.  Looking  at  the  smooth 
pebbles  strewn  along  the  shore,  I  thought  perhaps  he 
pointed  to  such  when  he  chid  the  Jews  for  relying  solely 
on  their  Abrahamic  lineage:  “For  I  say  unto  you,  that 
God  is  able  of  these  stones  to  raise  up  children  unto 
Abraham.”  Bethabara,  where  he  baptized,  was  in  this 
immediate  neighborhood. 

As  the  vast  multitude  were  streaming  down  the  hills 

26  *  u 


306 


CHRIST’S  BAPTISM. 


toward  the  river,  ‘‘Jesus  also  came  from  Galilee  to 
Jordan,  unto  John  to  be  baptized  of  him.”  Matt.  8. 
The  Spirit  of  God  descended  on  Him  like  a  dove,  and  a 
heavenly  voice  saying,  “  This  is  my  beloved  Son,  in  whom 
I  am  well  pleased.”  Then  He  went  up  among  those 
neighboring  Judean  hills,  seen  from  here,  to  be  tempted. 
Toward  the  end  of  His  life.  He  fled,  like  David,  beyond 
Jordan,  where  He  had  been  baptized.  John  10.  Here 
He  was  when  Lazarus  died,  whither  Martha  and  Mary 
sent  for  him,  doubtless  after  looking  down  to  these  hills 
while  they  eagerly  awaited  his  arrival.  Standing  on  the 
second  bank  of  the  Jordan,  and  looking  up  and  down  the 
river,  over  the  theatre  where  all  these  thrilling  scenes 
and  events  were  enacted,  the  general  features  of  which 
corresponding  so  perfectly  with  the  sacred  narrative,  one 
feels  almost  like  an  actual  eye-witness  of  this  holy  drama 
of  long,  long  centuries.  The  whole  has  daguerreotyped 
itself  indelibly  upon  my  heart.  The  meek  old  man  on 
Pisgah  (how  I  looked  up  and  down  the  knolls  of  the 
summit,  wondering  where  precisely  he  stood !) ;  the  ascend¬ 
ing  Elijah  in  his  fiery  chariot;  the  stern  preacher  of  re¬ 
pentance,  John  the  Baptist,  and  the  meek  and  lowly 
Jesus,  who  was  here  inducted  into  His  ministry,  these  all 
I  saw  there. 

While  strolling  along  the  Jordan,  I  caught  myself  in¬ 
voluntarily  humming  the  hymns  of  my  childhood. 

“  On  Jordan's  stormy  banks  I  stand  " 

is  not  literally  correct.  Certainly  the  storm  never  dis¬ 
turbs  its  current  much,  though  its  rapid  torrent  stream, 
at  the  time,  threatened  to  sweep  one  of  the  pilgrims  down 
into  the  Dead  Sea,  and  I  was  only  saved  from  a  similar 
fate  while  bathing,  by  catching  hold  of  the  limb  of  a  tree. 


POETRYOF  THE  JORDAN. 


307 


This  sea,  which  once  burned  with  fire  and  brimstone, 
John  used  as  a  figure  of  the  place  of  future  torment; 
“  the  lake  which  burneth  with  fire  and  brimstone,”  in 
which  the  wicked  shall  have  their  part.  Rev.  21  :  8. 
Those  who  are  too  weak  to  cross  the  Jordan,  are  swept 
down  into  this  Lake  of  Death ;  just  as  all  who  die  in 
their  sins  are  borne  off  by  death’s  Jordan  into  the  Lake 
of  Woe.  In  the  present  condition  of  Palestine,  some  of 
the  imagery  in  our  sacred  poetry  would  not  he  strictly 
correct.  The  drapery  of  many  of  our  hymns  is  borrowed 
from  its  earlier  golden  age,  hut  no  longer  suited  to  its 
forsaken  and  dreary  condition.  The  green  rich  plain, 
with  its  groves  around  Jericho  and  Gilgal,  must  then 
have  furnished  a  lovely  sight  to  the  Hebrews  beyond  the 
river. 

“  Sweet  fields  beyond  the  swelling  flood 
Stand  dressed  in  living  green ; 

So  to  the  Jews  old  Canaan  stood, 

While  Jordan  rolled  between.'^ ' 

I  looked  at  the  strong  dashing  current  with  hesitation 
and  misgivings.  Only  after  several  ineffectual  efforts, 
could  I  bring  myself  to  venture  in. 

“  But  timorous  mortals  start  and  shrink 
To  cross  this  narrow  sea ; 

And  linger  shivering  on  the  brink 
And  fear  to  launch  away.’^ 

Our  doubts,  like  those  of  Peter,  sink  us  beneath  the 
waves.  The  only  safe  way  to  cross  the  Jordan,  is  with 
the  help  of  Joshua  (Saviour),  who  sends  the  priests 
before  with  the  Ark  of  the  Covenant. 

So  God  still  sends  the  ministry  and  the  Church  before, 
,as  instruments  to  divide  the  water  for  the  soul  safely  to 
pass  over  into  the  Land  of  Promise.  The  ark  divides 


308 


THE  JORDAN  OF  DEATH. 


the  waters  and  sends  our  dangers  and  fears  down  to  the 
Dead  Sea.  Timid  souls  approach  it  with  trembling ;  but 
dying  grace  is  not  given  until  we  need  it.  When  our 
feet  dip  into  the  water,  the  Jordan  will  dry  up,  provided 
always  we  faithfully  adhere  to  Joshua. 

“  0  could  we  make  our  doubts  remove, 

Those  gloomy  doubts  that  rise, 

And  see  the  Canaan  that  we  love 
With  unbeclouded  eyes: 

“  Could  we  but  climb  where  Moses  stood. 

And  view  the  landscape  o’er, 

Not  Jordan’s  streams,  nor  death’s  cold  flood 
Should  fright  us  fnm  the  shore.'' 


APPROACH  THE  DEAD  SEA. 


309 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


Having  plucked  a  few  mustard  blossoms  along  the 
edge  of  the  thick  underwood  as  we  got  ready  to  start, 
we  finally  rode  off  southward  toward  the  Dead  Sea,  sing¬ 
ing  as  we  went, 

“On  Jordan’s  stormy  banks  I  stand.” 

We  soon  reached  an  uneven  plain,  which  became  per¬ 
fectly  barren  and  bare  a  mile  from  the  sea.  This  belt 
around  the  shore  is  covered  with  a  whitish  salt  crust, 
deposited  hy  the  evaporation  from  the  sea.  We  reached 
the  edge  of  it  in  an  hour  and  a  quarter,  making  the  dis¬ 
tance  from  four  to  five  miles.  Leaving  our  horses  on 
the  shore,  we  walked  over  a  short  causeway  on  to  a 
rough,  stony  little  island  at  the  northern  end,  and  pre¬ 
pared  for  a  bath.  The  water  is  clear  and  transparent, 
but  so  bitter  that  ordinary  salt  water  is  sweet  in  com¬ 
parison.  The  bottom  can  be  seen  where  the  water  is 
four  feet  deep,  and  even  at  a  greater  depth. 

Owing  to  its  great  density,  the  water  is  remarkably 
buoyant.  It  is  so  heavy  that  no  storm  ever  ruffles  its 
smooth  surface.  Good  swimmers  find  it  too  heavy  to 
work  the  paddles,  while  those  unskilled  in  the  art,  to 
wLich  class  I  happen  to  belong,  cannot  sink.  Sink  or 


310 


BATH  IN  THE  DEAD  SEA. 

swim,”  is  a  figure  that  will  not  apply  to  this  element. 
When  I  reached  a  certain  depth,  the  head  and  feet 
showed  a  strong  disposition  to  exchange  places,  like  a 
man  who  tries  to  walk  on  the  water  with  bladders  tied. to 
his  feet.  But  after  a  little  practice,  I  moved  and  rolled 
about  on  the  surface  of  the  deep  with  an  ease  w’hich  usu¬ 
ally  belongs  only  to  beings  of  an  amphibious  race.  I 
could  lie  on  the  water  as  on  a  soft,  cooling  couch ;  sit  as 
on  a  chair ;  walk  erect,  step  by  step,  just  as  if  my  feet 
touched  the  ground.  Standing  or  w’alking  erect,  my 
person  sank  up  to  the  arms  beneath  the  water.  A  slight 
scratch  on  the  skin  causes  a  pricking  pain,  and  the 
smallest  particle  splashed  in  the  eye  will  set  a  man  al¬ 
most  wild.  It  leaves  a  greasy  substance  on  the  skin  for 
days.  Four  days  after  this,  the  hair  on  my  head  was  still 
full  of  unctuous  polish,  as  if  I  had  dipped  it  into  a  lard 
barrel.  An  hour  after  our  bath  we  met  a  party  of 
friends,  whose  shouts  of  laughter  first  told  us  that  the 
evaporated  water  had  left  a  white,  salt  crust  on  our 
faces,  giving  us  the  spectral  appearance  of  those  dreaded 
beings  with  which  the  superstition  of  the  Middle  Ages 
had  peopled  this  region. 

The  shore  was  strewn  with  smooth  greyish  stones  and 
pebbles,  with  a  slippery  surface,  not  unlike  pieces  of  soap. 
Some  look  as  if  covered  with  a  thick  coat  of  grey  paint, 
and  are  said  to  burn  if  held  to  the  fire.  Trunks  and 
branches  of  trees  lie  along  its  margin,  which  were  swept 
down  by  the  Jordan.  Palm  trunks,  of  a  past  age,  which 
are  no  longer  found  along  the  river,  are  still  preserved  in 
its  brine.  As  the  Jordan  approaches  the  sea  the  current 
melts  into  a  tame,  sluggish  stream,  still  however  of  suffi¬ 
cient  force  to  carry  its  fresh  turbid  waters  far  into  the 
bitter  blue  sea,  without  intermingling.  It  has  no  outlet. 


SITE  OF  SODOM  AND  GOMORRAH.  311 


but  assimilates  all  it  receives.  No  fish  nor  any  living  ani¬ 
mals  are  in  it.  Some  say  that  no  bird  will  fly  over  it, 
which,  however,  is  an  exaggeration.  We  saw  a  swallow 
and  a  hawk  soar  through  the  hazy  air  dihove  it. 

At  its  widest  part,  the  Dead  Sea  is  about  twelve  miles 
in  width,  and  about  fifty  miles  long.  Its  greatest  depth 
is  1300  feet.  The  long,  copious  rains  in  Palestine  are 
said  to  raise  it  somewhat,  but  evaporation  soon  restores  it 
to  the  ordinary  level.  In  most  places  the  high  limestone 
mountains  approach  pretty  nearly  to  its  shores.  It  is 
1300  feet  below  the  level  of  the  Mediterranean, — the 
most  depressed  sheet  of  water  in  the  world.  The  intense 
heat  of  the  sun  which  pours  into  the  steaming  bowl  with 
almost  vertical  intensity,  during  eight  months  of  the 
year,  creates  an  immense  evaporation,  which  fills  the 
atmosphere  over  it  with  a  dense  haze.  At  the  time,  it 
reminded  me  of  our  American  Indian  Summer.  Earlier 
ages  have  seen  in  this  hazy  atmosphere  the  appearance 
of  the  “  smoke  going  up  forever  and  ever.”  Rev.  19  :  3. 

The  southern  end  of  the  Dead  Sea,  about  fifteen  miles 
in  extent,  is  much  shallower  than  the  other  parts  of  it, 
being  about  thirteen  feet  deep  in  winter,  and  only  three 
late  in  autumn.  This  most  probably  covers  the  site  of 
Sodom  and  Gomorrah.  The  region  round  about  it  was 
then  as  the  garden  of  the  Lord  ”  in  fertility,  and  now 
it  is  a  most  perfect  picture  of  arid  desolation.  Whence 
this  change.?  Before  the  destruction  of  the  cities  of  the 
plain,  this  w^as  an  ordinary  salt  lake,  but  much  smaller 
than  now,  and  the  Jordan  watered  part  of  the  plain 
around  it.  The  air  then  was  laden  with  salubrious  moist¬ 
ure,  and  the  ground  free  from  the  bituminous  and  saline 
exhalations  now  so  destructive  to  vegetable  life.  The 
convulsions  and  eruptions  with  which  God  destroyed  the 


312 


DWELLING-PLACE  OF  LOT. 


doomed  cities  heaved  up  veins  of  rock-salt,  bitumen,  and 
other  volcanic  substances,  whose  solution  has  rendered 
its  waters  so  bitter  and  remarkably  dense  ever  since. 
This  increased  its  size,  and  now  causes  it  to  charge  the 
atmosphere  with  substances  which  blight  the  soil  with  a  per¬ 
petual  curse.  At  the  lower  end  some  travellers  claim  to 
have  found  ‘‘  the  pillar  of  salt,”  into  which  Lot’s  wifg  was 
transformed  for  looking  behind  her.  Gen.  19  :  26.  All 
around  the  sea  you  find  stones  and  rocks,  on  which  the 
atmosphere  has  left  a  deposit  of  salt  crust,  which  gives 
many  the  appearance  of  pillars  of  salt.  And  this  is  all 
that  travellers  find.  I  have  no  doubt  that  every  thing 
happened  as  the  Bible  says ;  but  the  cause  of  religion 
receives  more  damage  than  benefit  from  straining  attempts 
to  gratify  an  idle,  silly  curiosity,  without  even  a  plausible 
foundation  of  identity.  You  can  change  any  person  into 
a  pillar  of  salt  in  a  single  day,  by  dipping  him  into  this 
briny,  bituminous  sea,  just  as  you  can  change  a  wick  into 
a  tallow  candle  by  dipping  it  into  the  tallow. 

At  the  lower  end  of  this  present  Sea,  then  in  the 
“Yale  of  Siddim,  which  is  the  Salt  Sea,”  righteous  Lot 
lived !  Hither  he  came  with  his  herds,  when  he  and 
Abraham  agreed  to  separate.  “  Lot  chose  him  all  the 
plain  of  Jordan  ;  and  Lot  journeyed  east  ”  from  Bethel. 
Gen.  13  :  11.  On  two  successive  occasions  the  Lord 
delivered  him  out  of  great  danger.  The  fertile  plain  and 
its  wealthy  cities  had  for  twelve  years  been  subject  to 
Chedorlaomer,  the  King  of  Elam.  “  In  the  thirteenth 
year  they  rebelled,  and  in  the  fourteenth,  Chedorlaomer 
and  his  allies  invaded  the  plain.  This  was  the  first  inva¬ 
sion  of  Palestine  by  Assyria  which  we  have  on  record. 
The  invaders  conquered  and  took  Lot  and  his  goods  with 
them  They  returned  up  through  the  valley  of  the  Jor- 


LOT  AND  THE  ANGELS. 


313 


dan,  to  the  source  of  this  river.  Here  Abram  the  He¬ 
brew”  overtook  them  with  his  318  trained  servants,  and 
chased  them  across  the  Anti-Libanus  into  the  plain  of 
Damascus,  and  “brought  back  again  his  brother  Lot  ”  to 
Ins  home.  Gen.  14. 

Again  the  peace  of  his  hearth  is  invaded,  but  not  by  a 
human  foe.  In  the  cool  of  the  evening  “  Lot  sat  in  the 
gate  of  Sodom,” — at  the  gates  of  the  city  men  of  influence 
still  meet  for  social  interview,  or  to  decide  on  trials  and 
disputes.  Two  angels  enter  the  gate,  whom  he  presses 
to  lodge  with  him.  In  the  morning,  destruction  paused 
until  they  had  hurried  him  and  his  family  out  of  the  city, 
when  “  brimstone  and  fire  from  the  Lord  out  of  heaven 
overthrew  those  cities  and  all  the  plain,  and  all  the 
inhabitants  of  the  cities  and  that  which  grew  upon  the 
ground.”  Gen.  19.  In  truth  this  Dead  Sea  is  a  dreary 
region.  The  thick  haze  hangs  over  it  like  a  funeral  pall ; 
and  the  bald  mountains,  rising  from  1500  to  2000  feet 
above  the  lake,  give  it  the  appearance  of  a  vast  kettle* 
sunk  deep  into  the  earth ;  the  bare  crusty  soil,  and  the 
dull  sepulchral  hush  of  a  watery  region,  where  not  a  wave 
rolls  over  the  surface,  or  lashes  in  pleasant  sounds  on  the 
shore,  all  combine  to  make  it  an  apt  image  of  the  dreary, 
hideous  pond  of  spiritual  death.  Whatever  natural  agents 
God  may  have  employed  in  the  destruction  of  “the  cities 
of  the  plain,”  the  sea  that  covers  them  as  a  winding-sheet 
is  a  perpetual  monument  of  His  justice,  which  must  ever 
visit  impenitent  and  rebellious  iniquity  with  its  merited 
punishment.  ' 

Soon  after  leaving  the  Dead  Sea,  the  plain  rose  in  a 
sloping  ascent.  Our  path  led  over  rough  ravines,  and 
finally  up  the  steep,  rugged  mountain  side,  in  zigzag 
windings.  Higher  and  still  higher  we  ascended,  aiS  we 
27 


514 


WILDERNESS  OF  ENGEDDI. 


rode  into  the  ^‘hill  country  of  Judea.”  The  Salt  Sea** 
spread  out  below  us  in  its  deep  basin,  far  toward  the 
south,  until  its  blue  unruffled  waters  were  hid  by  the  haze. 
The  sun,  reflected  from  the  bare  hills,  was  intensely  hot, 
and  not  a  tree  or  shrub  could  he  found  for  shelter.  Wo 
crouched  in  the  shade  of  a  rock  to  take  our  repast.  We 
rode  over  hills  without  end,  whose  dreary  aspect  was 
relieved  by  naught  but  lizards,  hawks,  and  an  occasional 
chirping  bird.  Bathing  in  the  sea,  and  the  breathless 
heat,  brought  on  languor  and  oppressive  weariness,  which 
made  dreariness  more  dreary. 

We  were  now  in  the  wilderness  of  Engeddi,  where 
David  ‘‘dwelt  in  strong  holds”  when  he  fled  from  Saul. 
He  sought  the  fugitive  heir  of  his  throne  “upon  the  rocks 
of  the  wild  goats,”  animals  which  then  abounded  here. 
1  Sam.  24  :  2 ;  Psalm  104  :  18.  The  caves  which  still 
remain  among  these  hills  are  doubtless  such  as  Saul  and 
David  entered.  1  Sam.  24.  Some  were  then  already  old, 
^nd  their  design  and  origin  unknown.  They  were  often 
used  for  hiding  places.  David  hid  himself  in  the  cave  ot 
Adullam.  2  Sam.  23.  The  five  kings  whom  Joshua  van¬ 
quished  at  Gibeon,  “  hid  themselves  in  a  cave  at  Mak- 
kedah.”  And  Joshua  shut  them  up  by  rolling  great 
stones  to  its  door.  Joshua  10. 

At  length  we  met  occasional  flocks  of  sheep :  the 
“sheepcotes”  which  David  saw  were  doubtless  at  their 
encampments.  Several  Bedouin  women  strolled  after 
their  flocks,  while  they  were  spinning  wool  with  the  distaff. 
It  is  quite  a  simple  affair  ;  only  the  spool  of  our  spinning- 
wheel,  with  a  bunch  of  flaxen  tow  tied  to  the  end,  from 
which  they  pull  off  the  thread ;  just  such  as  Sarah  and 
Rebekah  used.  The  spool  or  distaff*  is  left  to  dangle 
loosely  at  one  end  of  the  thread,  which  they  give  an  occa- 


BEDOUIN  WOMEN  SPINNING. 


815 


eional  twirl  while  twisting  and  rubbing  at  the  other. 
They  spin  as  leisurely  as  ladies  in  more  civilized  countries 
knit,  not  only  during  conversation,  but  sometimes  while 
riding  abroad  on  a  camel  or  donkey.  So  they  spun  wool 
in  the  morning  of  the  world.  No  cotton-jennies  then. 
How  these  poor  women  would  look  to  see  a  cotton  factory 
of  five  hundred  or  a  thousand  looms  running  off  finished 
bales  of  muslin  from  piles  of  raw  cotton!  We  afterwards 
passed  a  black  line  of  seventeen  Bedouin  tents,  where  the 
women  again  sat  in  their  humble  dwellings  plying  their 
distaffs.  I  w^as  greatly  pleased  with  the  evident  industry 
of  these  matrons  of  Engeddi.  Despite  the  many  marks 
of  inferiority,  in  this  respect  the  daughters  of  Ishmael 
resemble  the  model  woman  of  King  Lemuel :  Who  lay- 
eth  her  hands  to  the  spindle,  and  her  hands  hold  the 
distaff,^'  Prov.  31  :  19. 

Wearily  we  jogged  on  beneath  the  hot  sun,  among  steep 
hills,  rocks,  and  wadys.  Einally  we  reached  a  walled 
road  along  a  steep  mountain  side,  winding  around  several 
precipitous  bluffs ;  and  then  of  a  sudden  the  famous  con¬ 
vent  of  Mar  Saba  hung  over  a  deep, gorge  right  before  us. 

Mohammed  and  the  muleteers  had  gone  in  advance  of 
us  and  prepared  the  tents,  ready  for  repose,  and  at  no 
former  period  did  we  need  it  more.  My  exhaustion  made 
me  forget  all  the  holy  impressions  of  the  day.  The  first 
and  foremost  thought  was  rest,  and  rest  I  did  in  a  re¬ 
freshing  nap.  A  few  moments  sufficed,  and  we  started 
for  a  visit  to  the  convent.  After  considerable  battering 
on  its  little  iron  door,  it  swung  open  on  its  heavy  hinges, 
and  a  monk  bade  us  enter.  Quite  a  crowd  of  pilgrims 
were  lounging  about  the  interior  of ‘the  premises.  We 
went  down  a  flight  of  winding  stairs  and  up  another  into 
a  plain  reception  room.  Seated  on  the  divan,  the  monks 


316 


CONVENT  OE  MAR  SABA. 


entertained  us  with  palm  brandy,  coffee,  and  raisins — the 
first  being  a  barbarous  kind  of  grog,  which  we  declined 
to  indulge  in. 

They  then  led  us  through  the  different  apartments  of 
the  convent ;  into  the  sepulchre  of  St.  Saba  beneath  a 
curiously  wrought  mausoleum,  in  a  stone  chapel  in  the 
centre  of  the  court ;  through  a  series  of  chapels,  covered 
with  quaint  pictures  and  Greek  inscriptions ;  then  into  two 
chapels  of  St.  John  of  Damascus ;  in  one  he  wrote  his 
work  on  Faith,  still  the  chief  text-hook  of  the  Crreeh 
Church;  the  other, contains  his  tomb.  The  church  has 
a  richly  gilded  pulpit,  and  is  brilliantly  decorated  with 
silver  and  gold.  The  monks  were  just  at  service,  but 
our  guide  led  us  close  by  the  officiating  priest,  and  loudly 
chattered  his  explanations,  as  if  unconscious  of  the  silent 
devotions  of  his  brethren.  From  the  top  of  its  tower  we 
looked  down  into  the  fearful  gorges  which  furrow  this 
romantic  region. 

This  convent  w^as  founded  by  St.  Saba  in  the  begin¬ 
ning  of  the  sixth  century.  He  lived  in  a  cell  cut  out  of 
the  rocks,  with  a  lion  for  his  companion.  A  dreary 
chamber  it  is,  entered  by  a  low  door,  and  a  small  side 
cell,  where  dwelt  the  lion.  Around  this  cell  the  walls 
and  towers  of  the  convent  were  reared,  on  the  edge  of  a 
precipice  overhanging  the  Kedron.  Through  many  gorges 
and  winding  crooks  it  reaches  here  from  Jerusalem,  on 
its  way  to  the  Dead  Sea.  The  narrow  bed  of  the  crooked, 
deep-cut  rock-channel  was  many  hundred  feet  below  us.  I 
could  not  look  down  without  a  shudder,  for  the  huge  edi¬ 
fice  hangs  over  an  awful  abyss.  The  perpendicular  rocks 
on  both  sides  are  -perforated  by  numerous  hermit-cells, 
once  the  abode  of  recluses.  The  naked  hills  around  it, 
traversed  by  a  confusion  of  gorges,  without  trees  or  grass, 


HISTORY  OP  ST.  SABA. 


317 


present  a  scene  of  the  wildest  grandeur.  The  convent 
contains  a  vault  filled  with  fourteen  thousand  martyred 
monks  !  Many  of  its  cells  are  only  caves  in  the  rocks. 
It  is  supported  by  massive  buttresses  and  walls  of  in¬ 
credible  strength,  as  a  protection  against  foes.  They 
extend  half-way  down  the  rocks,  so  that  its  interior  from 
a  distance  looks  like  a  very  steep  roof,  and  its  cells  like 
magnified  swallow-nests  along  the  lofty  rocks.  A  few 
vegetables  and  a  pomegranate  tree  in  the  court  presented 
a  green  spot,  in  pleasant  contrast  with  the  general  dreary 
sterility  outside.  The  monks  reverently  pointed  out  a  soli¬ 
tary  palm  tree,  as  having  been  planted  by  St.  Saba  himself. 

In  the  early  ages  of  the  Church,  monasticism  was  not 
always  confined  to  convents.  Anchorites  would  often 
select  a  dreary,  unfrequented  spot,  and  live  in  a  cluster 
of  such  cells,  which  they  called  Laura.  The  Greek  Church 
was  noted  for  this  kind  of  asceticism,  where  it  still  is  prin¬ 
cipally  found.  In  the  early  part  of  its  history,  the  monks 
of  St.  Saha  thus  abode  in  separate  cells ;  but  afterwards 
they  organized  themselves  into  a  cenobium  or  convent, 
under  a  superior.  Since  then  it  has  had  to  encounter 
cruel  and  adverse  fortunes.  In  the  sixth  century  the 
Origenist  sect  violently  took  possession  of  it.  After  it 
was  restored  to  the  owners  by  military  force,  the  Per¬ 
sians  again  took  it  in  the  seventh  century.  In  the  eighth 
and  ninth  centuries  it  was  repeatedly  plundered  by  Arab 
hordes,  and  nearjy  all  the  monks  were  slain.  At  the 
beginning  of  the  present  century  the  rapacious  Arabs 
again  besieged  its  massive  walls.  As  they  have  no 
cannons  or  other  weapons  with  which  to  batter  or  scale 
such  ramparts,  they  finally  gained  entrance  by  burning 
the  small  door,  which  then  was  made  of  wood.  With  its 
present  iron  door,  it  is  impervious  to  Arab  warfare.  The 
27* 


318 


A  SUNSET  ON  THE  KEDRON. 


convent  at  present  contains  thirty-five  monks,  and  is 
under  the  especial  protection  of  the  Russian  Government. 

Just  before  sunset  I  ascended  a  neighboring  hill-top, 
which  commanded  a  full  view  of  the  wild  environs  of  the 
convent.  The  lofty  stupendous  clifis  of  Kedron  rose 
from  their  fearful  depths  in  awful  grandeur.  Here  and 
there  crumbling  walls  or  a  small  recess  marked  the  site 
of  a  former  hut.  The  open  doors  of  the  untenanted  cells 
within  the  convent  walls  appeared  like  so  many  pigeon¬ 
holes,  of  which  large  flocks  were  flying  familiarly  up  and 
down  the  Kedron  g9rge.  The  pilgrims  were  reclining  in 
the  court  and  on  the  roofs  of  the  convent,  chattering  in 
many  tongues.  As  the  sun  dropped  behind  the  hills,  a 
variety  of  birds,  to  me  unknowm,  began  to  warble  in  all 
directions,  making  the  dreary  Kedron  ring  with  the  sweet 
music  of  nature.  Kever  did  the  song  of  birds  take  me 
more  sweetly  by  surprise.  The  sun  had  set  to  us,  but 
still  he  shed  his  mellow  evening  light  on  the  mountains 
of  Moab,  on  the  other  side  and  toward  the  lower  end  of 
the  Dead  Sea.  I  watched  the  shadow  as  it  slowly 
ascended  to  the  top,  and  suddenly  the  sun  was  gone. 
Then  I  thought  of  that  last  sunset  of  Sodom  and  Go¬ 
morrah,  of  the  angels  it  brought  to  Lot,  of  the  riotous 
carnal  confusion  of  “  the  street  ”  at  night,  and  how  they 
‘‘  vexed  his  righteous  soul.”  I  was  aroused  from  this 
pleasant  reverie  by  the  convent  clock  striking  the 
twelfth  hour,  corresponding  to  our  6  P.  M.  The  cheer¬ 
ful  melodies  of  birds  gradually  died  away,  and  my  old 
familiar  friend,  the  katydid,  struck  up  a  no  less  welcome 
tune.  The  pilgrims  grew  quieter  and  retired  from  the 
roof  to  their  lodgings.  Night  hawks,  owls,  and  bats 
issued  from  the  caves  that  overhung  the  deep  valleys, 
and  set  up  a  hideous  hooting  and  croaking.  Just  then  I 


DISTANT  BEDOUIN  CAMPS. 


319 


discovered  a  black  line  of  Bedouin  tents  in  a  distant 
valley,  and  speedily  returned  to  our  own,  to  escape  tbeir 
nocturnal  maraudings. 

Soon  after  we  resumed  our  journey  the  next  morning, 
we  reached  elevations  where  the  Dead  Sea  came  into 
view  again.  The  lurid  glare  of  the  morning  sun  gave  it 
the  appearance  of  a  molten  sea  of  lava.  The  mountains 
too  reflected  a  light  through  the  hazy  atmosphere,  of 
most  singular  hue.  At  this  hour  of  the  day,  “  when  the 
morning  arose,  then  the  angels  hastened  Lot,”  his  wife 
and  two  daughters  out  of  the  city.  The  sun  was  risen 
upon  the  earth  when  Lot  entered  into  Zoar.”  Then 
commenced  the  destruction  of  the  cities.  The  black 
clouds  of  sulphurous  smoke  could  have  been  seen  from 
here,  as  Abraham  saw  them  not  far  from  this,  rising  up 
‘‘as  the  smoke  of  a  furnace.”  Gen.  19. 

We  passed  in  sight  of  Bedouin  encampments,  “black 
as  the  tents  of  Kedar.”  Here  and  there  a  meagre  patch 
of  wheat  lay  nestled  in  a  stony  dell.  Within  a  mile  or 
two  from  Bethlehem,  the  little  valleys  became  more  fer¬ 
tile,  and  were  alive  with  Arabs  ploughing  and  sowing 
their  spring  seed.  Only  a  few  ploughed  with  horses  ;  the 
rest  with  small  oxen,  as  large  as  a  yearling  calf.  I  do 
not  remember  of  having  seen  any  but  these  dwarfish 
cattle  in  all  Judea ;  whereas  in  Galilee,  along  Carmel 
and  the  hills  of  Bashan,  they  are  as  large  as  elsewhere. 

Wherever  the  land  is  cultivated,  it  is  worked  by  all  the 
villagers.  It  belongs  to  some  rich  nabob  or  the  Govern¬ 
ment,  if  such  a  term  can  be  applied  to  the  ungovernment 
of  Palestine.  Some  of  the  plundering  Bedouin  tribes  take 
the  government  into  their  own  hands,  and  farm  by  stealth. 
From  remote  ages,  the  agricultural  interests  of  Palestine 
have  been  crippled  by  this  worse  than  barbarian  feuda- 


320 


AGRICULTURE  OF  PALESTINE. 


lism.  Here  we  found  scores  of  men  and  teams  working 
promiscuously  together.  One  yoke  following  the  other, 
like  “  Elisha  the  son  of  Shaphat,  who  was  ploughing  with 
twelve  yoke  of  oxen  before  him,  and  he  with  the  twelfth.” 
1  Kings  19  :  19.  Having  the  hindermost  plough,  his 
interview  with  Elijah  did  not  stop  the  rest. 

The  ploughs  are  frail  implements,  made  on  the  simplest 
plan.  A  single  handle  terminating  in  a  heavy  point,  or 
“the  plough -share,”  with  a  beam  attached  to  it,  con¬ 
nected  with  the  yoke ;  this  is  the  Arab’s  plough.  This 
point  in  most  instances  is  so  narrow,  that  when  the  Golden 
Age  of  peace  shall  come,  it  would  not  be  difficult  for  a 
single  sword  to  be  “beaten  into  a  plowshare.”  It  only 
streaks  and  scratches  over  the  surface,  while  the  plougher 
sometimes  walks  sideways,  with  one  hand  on  the  handle, 
and  the  other  on  a  stick,  pressing  the  share  into  the 
ground.  With  their  puny  teams  and  rickety  running 
ploughs,  they  are  compelled  to  work  and  sow  their  lands 
in  winter,  when  the  rains  moisten  and  soften  the  earth. 
Their  ignorance  of  the  art  of  agriculture  compels  them 
to  toil  through  winter  showers,  shivering  with  cold,  when 
they  might  do  it  to  much  better  purpose  in  fair  weather. 
It  has  ever  been  so  here.  “  The  sluggard  will  not  plough 
by  reason  of  cold ;  therefore  shall  he  beg  in  harvest  and 
have  nothing.”  Prov.  20  :  4.  “  He  that  observeth  the 

wind  shall  not  sow ;  and  he  that  regardeth  the  clouds 
shall  not  reap.”  Eccles.  11  :  4.  Why?  Because  when 
clouds  and  cold  rains  cease,  he  cannot  plough  the  hard 
dry  ground  sufficiently  to  cover  his  seed. 

Another  reason  why  the  farmers  work  thus  in  com¬ 
panies  is  for  mutual  protection.  The  most  of  them  had 
a  sword  or  gun  with  them  to  keep  off  other  warlike 
and  plundering  tribes.  Even  these  farmers  are  easily 


A  THRILLING  INCIDENT. 


321 


tempted  to  commit  robberies,  when,  at  least  in  a  figurative 
sense,  they  convert  the  “  ploughshare  into  the  sword.” 
As  we  were  but  a  small  party,  with  only  two  soldiers, 
the  attack  of  so  large  a  number  might  have  given  us 
trouble.  A  few  days  later,  four  of  our  American  friends 
rode  along  here  toward  Bethlehem ;  when  suddenly, 
several  Arabs  gave  a  simultaneous  signal,  and  all  seized 
their  guns,  swords,  and  hoes,  and  rallied  for  an  attack. 
Their  cowardly  escort,  true  to  the  reputation  of  these 
Turkish  hirelings,  were  seized  with  panic,  and  bade  the 
rest  of  the  party  to  flee  for  their  lives,  in  which  they  at 
once  set  them  an  example.  In  their  scampering  confu¬ 
sion  they  were  separated,  and  one  of  the  soldiers  in  his 
fright  ran  his  horse  over  the  brow  of  a  hill  into  a  Be¬ 
douin  encampment.  Then  came  a  scufile  with  several 
Arabs  at  swords’  point,  from  which  he  emerged  with  the 
loss  of  a  finger. 

We  had  a  fleet,  sure-footed  set  of  horses,  qualities 
very  necessary  in  this  part  of  the  world.  The  travellei 
over  these  Judean  hills  can  pick  his  path  wherever  safety 
may  dictate,  of  which  these  horses  generally  are  the 
best  judges.  When  my  confidence  and  judgment  failed 
me  along  perilous  places,  I  threw  the  reins  down,  and 
committed  myself,  under  Providence,  to  the  superior 
judgment  of  my  noble  steed.  Riding  along  a  steep 
hillside  near  Bethlehem,  where  the  rocks  had  been 
washed  bare,  his  feet  flew  from  under  him,  which  left  me 
standing  over  his  prostrate  body ;  but  this  was  the  only 
mishap  that  befell  him  during  our  whole  tour.  About  a 
mile  south-east  of  Bethlehem,  we  passed  in  sight  of  a 
grassy  glen  among  the  hills,  where  the  shepherds  watched 
their  flocks  by  night  when  “  the  angel  of  the  Lord  came 
upon  them,”  with  the  glad  tidings  “  unto  you  is  born  this 

V 


322 


CHURCH  OF  THE  NATIVITY. 


day  in  the  city  of  David,  a  Saviour,  which  is  Christ  the 
Lord.”  Luke  2.  Proceeding  westward  up  a  small  hill 
through  the  city  gate,  then  down  a  narrow  street  along 
the  inside  of  the  wall,  we  dismounted  in  an  open  place 
or  small  co'  rt  before  the  large  convent  and  church  of 
the  Nativity,  at  the  eastern  end  of  the  town,  on  the  brow 
of  a  hill.  We  stooped  through  a  low  door  into  the  main 
body  or  nave  of  the  church,  which  is  all  that  remains  of  it. 
Along  each  side,  is  a  double  row  of  twelve  columns,  making 
forty-eight  in  all.  ^  These  support  the  roof,  spanned  with 
beams  of  ancient  cedars  from  Lebanon ;  the  walls  are 
dimly  decorated  with  faded  mosaics.  The  whole  is  built 
in  the  Grecian  style.  This  church  was  erected  by  He¬ 
lena,  the  mother  of  Constantine,  and  must  therefore  he 
over  1500  years  old,  —  the  oldest  Christian  church  in 
Palestine. 

Here  a  venerable  monk  in  a  brown,  coarse  cowl  and 
cassock,  girded  with  a  rope,  received  us,  and  offered  to 
serve  as  our  guide.  These  monks,  many  of  them  with¬ 
out  shoes,  hats,  or  any  clothing  save  a  piece  of  cloth 
loosely  hung  around  them ;  with  flowing  beards,  and  the 
crown  of  the  head  shaven,  constantly  remind  one  of  the 
austerities  of  Elijah  and  John  the  Baptist.  This  is  their 
dress  for  week-day  and  Sunday,  for  summer  and  winter, 
for  at  home  and  on  journeys.  He  handed  each  of  us  a 
small  lighted  candle,  and  bade  us  follow  him.  After 
proceeding  to  a  number  of  caves  or  cells  in  the  rocks, 
he  took  us  down  a  marble  stairway  of  fifteen  steps,  into 
a  room  which  resembled  a  basement  or  cellar.  The 
whole  is  a  cave  hewn  out  of  the  limestone  rock,  with 
pieces  of  cloth  hung  over  its  rough,  natural  walls.  The 
room  or  chapel  is  thirty-five  feet  long,  about  half  as 
wide,  and  eight  or  ten  feet  high.  From  the  ceiling, 


SCENE  OF  THE  NATIVITY. 


328 


many  brilliant  gold  and  silver  lamps  were  banging, 
which  dimly  burn  day  and  night  from  year  to  year. 
Having  no  windows,  and  being  under  ground,  these 
lamps  perform  a  necessary  service. 

When  we  reached  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  I  saw  a 
number  of  persons  at  the  other  end  of  the  chapel,  kneel¬ 
ing  and  prostrated  around  an  altar.  Softly  stepping  up 
to  the  devout  group,  we  found  that  dazzling  gold  lamps 
hung  above  the  altar,  and  under  it  was  a  silver  star  with 
glittering  precious  stones  inwrought,  containing  the  cir-  \ 
cular  inscription :  Hic  db  Yirgine  Maria  Jesus  Chris- 
TUS  Natus  est  {Here  Jesus  Christ  was  horn  of  the  Vir¬ 
gin  Mary).  At  this  end  of  the  chapel  near  the  altar, 
was  another  stairway,  over  which  pilgrims  were  continu¬ 
ally  coming  and  going.  Still,  men  come  from  ‘^the 
East,’’  as  did  “the  wise  men,”  to  bring  presents  to  the 
new-born  King.  All  left  their  shoes  and  sandals 
without,  and  as  soon  as  they  reached  the  foot  of  the 
stairs,  softly  knelt  down,  or  prostrated  themselves  with 
their  faces  on  the  pavement.  Just  as  did  the  wise  men 
from  the  east,  “  when  they  saw  the  young  child  with 

Mary  his  mother,  they  fell  down  and  worshipped  him.” 

Not  a  tread  or  whisper  was  heard  ;  only  occasionally  a 
half-suppressed  groan  from  some  sorrowing  heart.  For 
a  while  I  watched  these  pilgrims  surrounding  the  altar 

as  if  by  stealth.  Poor  ragged  men  and  women,  and 

others  of  princely  wealth,  with  gaudy,  flowing  robes ; 
some  praising,  some  sorrowing  and  weeping  over  their 
sins ;  all  around  the  same  shrine. 

Some  travellers  approach  the  altar  with  their  heads 
full  of  arguments  against  the  identity  of  the  place.  I 
had  no  disposition  to  profane  it  with  such  calculations. 

Not  the  spot  or  the  star  was  the  object  of  worship,  but 


324 


CELL  or  ST.  JEROME. 


Jesus  born  in  Bethlehem,  God  manifest  in  the  flesh 
born  a  helpless  babe  and  nursed  by  a  human  mother, 
Mho  fondled  and  pressed  Him  to  her  bosom  as  other 
mothers  do  their  children !  And  then  the  thought  that 
for  more  than  1700  years,  multitudes  have  come  down 
here  from  all  parts  of  the  world,  and  dropped  tears  of 
sorrow  and  tears  of  joy  around  this  spot,  many  of  whom 
are  now  in  heaven,  and  others  who  have  failed  to  get 
there,  —  all  this  fills  the  heart  with  emotions  which  can 
only  be  satisfied  in  prayer.  And  I  should  feel  sorry 
had  I  not  with  penitence  and  contrition  called  upon  the 
Saviour  at  that  consecrated  shrine,  and  thanked  him 
from  a  full  heart  for  having  been  born  in  Bethlehem. 

The  monk  led  us  through  a  narrow,  winding,  under¬ 
ground  passage,  into  a  small  cave  rudely  hewn  out  of  the 
rock,  once  the  abode  of  St.  Jerome,  one  of  the  most 
illustrious  pilgrims  that  has  ever  knelt  at  this  shrine. 
Here  he  lived,  labored,  meditated,  and  prayed  for  thirty 
years,  at  what  he  literally  believed  to  be  the  cradle  of  the 
Christian  religion.  His  celebrated  Vulgate  translation 
of  the  Scriptures,  the  only  received  version  used  by  the 
Catholic  Church,  was  issued  from  this  little  cell.  Here 
the  fire  of  his  genius,  which  he  brought  from  his  Dalma¬ 
tian  home,  vented  itself  in  a  flood  of  letters,  treatises,  and 
commentaries,  which  alike  terrified  and  enlightened  the 
western  world.  In  this  little  rock-chamber  occurred  his 
last  communion  and  death,  a  scene  which  Domenichino 
has  preserved  to  all  the  world  in  his  celebrated  painting 
in  St.  Peter’s.  Often  I  had  mused  before  it  at  Rome, 
watching  his  serene  resignation,  his  frail  fleshless  frame 
almost  seeming  to  tremble  on  the  canvas,  ready  to  sink 
over  as  he  receives  the  Holy  Communion  at  the  hands 
of  the  priest,  with  a  grateful  mien  which  seems  to  say. 


BETHLEHEM. 


325 


‘‘I  am  ready  to  depart.”  His  spirit  has  followed  the 
Saviour  to  heaven,  while  his  dust  reposes  in  an  adjoining 
cave. 

The  Arabs  now  call  the  town  Beit  Lahm,  House  of 
Flesh,”  whilst  its  ancient  name,  Bethlehem,  means 
“  House  of  Bread,”  which  perhaps  it  derived  from  some 
of  the  fruitful  grain -producing  hills  around  it.  The  heaps 
of  W'heat  which  grain-merchants  had  piled  up  in  the 
streets  were  a  fitting  illustration  of  the  name.  When  our 
Saviour  was  born  here  it  became  the  “House  of  Bread” 
in  a  higher  sense.  For  he  says:  “I  am  the  living  bread 
which  came  down  from  heaven :  if  any  man  eat  of  this 
bread  he  shall  live  forever.”  John  6  :  51.  It  is  about 
six  miles  from  Jerusalem  —  only  about  two  hours’  walk 
from  where  our  Saviour  was  born  to  where  he  died  and 
was  buried.  Bethlehem  and  Calvary — joy  and  sorrow, 
life  and  death  —  are  never  far  apart  in  this  world.  The 
town  is  built  on  the  crest  of  a  small  hill,  surrounded  by 
other  hills.  The  whole  is  surrounded  by  a  wall  about 
thirty  feet  high,  with  a  number  of  gates  through  which 
you  enter  it.  “The  fenced  cities”  of  the  Old  Testament 
was  only  another  expression  for  walled  cities,  and  Beth¬ 
lehem  was  one  of  “the  fenced  cities  of  Judah.”  2  Chron. 
12  :  4.  Its  present  population  is  about  four  thousand, 
all  belonging  to  the  Greek  Church.  As  it  was  little 
among  the  thousands  (cities)  of  Judah,  (Micah  5  :  2)  it 
could  hardly  have  had  as  many  inhabitants  in  the  days 
of  Christ.  It  has  always  occupied  an  humble  place  in 
Hebrew  history.  The  inhabitants  now  have  the  name 
of  being  a  lawless,  quarrelsome  people,  who  are  in  the 
habit  of  rebelling  against  the  government.  Some  of  them 
live  by  farming  small  patches  of  the  rocky  country  around 
the  town,  and  from  the  fruit  of  the  fig,  pomegranate, 
28 


326 


RUTH  AND  BOAZ. 


olive  and  vine,  which  cover  some  of  the  neighboring  hills ; 
others  live  by  carving  events  in  the  history  of  our  Saviour 
on  sea-shells,  and  other  curious  trinkets,  which  they  sell 
to  the  pilgrims  that  visit  Jerusalem  during  the  Easter 
seasons. 

Some  places  around  Bethlehem  are  always  sown  with 
grain,  where  Boaz,  the  great-grandfather  of  David,  may 
have  had  his  ‘‘field,”  in  which  Ruth  gleaned  what  his 
reapers  had  left.  East  of  the  town  are  green  hills, 
whither  the  Bethlehemites  still  lead  their  fiocks  and  herds. 
Here  possibly  the  little  ruddy  son  of  Jesse  kept  his 
father’s  sheep  when  Samuel  came  to  anoint  him  King 
over  Israel,  where  he  may  have  composed  his  beautiful 
Psalm  of  the  Good  Shepherd.  Psalm  23 ;  2  Sam.  7. 
The  country  around  is  rough,  even  where  it  is  not  hilly  ; 
the  rocks  rise  above  the  surface.  From  some  of  these 
knobs  Naomi  could  see  the  hills  of  Moab,  the  land  of 
her  bereavement,  where  she  had  buried  Elimelech  and 
her  two  sons.  It  is  still  a  custom  for  poor  women  to 
glean  after  the  reapers  ;  and  the  salutation,  “  The  Lord 
be  with  you,”  which  Boaz  used  when  he  met  his  reapers, 
and  the  greeting  which  he  received  in  reply,  are  em¬ 
ployed  to  this  day  between  proprietor  and  laborer  in 
the  East,  in  the  precise  words.  The  veiled  women 
which  I  saw  here  reminded  me  of  Ruth.  Their  veils 
are  not  the  thin  gauze  of  western  countries,  but  are 
made  of  heavy  cotton  cloth,  amply  strong  and  large 
enough  to  carry  “  six  measures  of  barley.”  Ruth  2, 
3.  Once  David  was  sorely  tried  by  thirst,  and  he  ex¬ 
claimed  :  “  0  that  one  would  give  me  drink  of  the  water 
of  the  well  of  Bethlehem,  which  is  by  the  gate !  ”  2 

Sam.  23  :  15.  A  well  or  spring  not  far  from  one  of  the 
modern  gates  would  seem  precisely  to  answer  to  this. 


THE  INNS  OF  PALESTINE.  327 

The  general  appearance  of  Bethlehem  is  like  that  of 
other  towns  in  the  East,  —  narrow,  crooked  streets,  flat- 
roofed  houses,  mostly  small,  with  fronts  all  walled  up 
save  a  small  door.  It  has  no  hotel  or  place  of  entertain¬ 
ment.  The  travellers  who  tarry  here  over  night,  usually 
lodge  in  the  convent.  Indeed  no  town  in  Palestine  has  a 
hotel  except  Jerusalem.  Usually  they  have  a  khan,  con¬ 
sisting  of  a  large  stone  building,  sometimes  only  partly 
roofed,  put  up  either  by  the  town’s  people  or  the  Govern¬ 
ment,  in  which  strangers  lodge  —  horses,  mules,  asses, 
and  their  masters,  all  in  one  common  room.  Provender 
is  furnished  for  the  animals,  but  no  boarding  for  the 
travellers.  The  English  version  of  the  Bible  calls  these 
buildings  inns.  Such  an  inn  was  already  at  Bethlehem 
in  the  days  of  Jeremiah,  built  or  owned  by  a  man  called 
Chimham,  for  the  accommodation  of  travellers  between 
Canaan  and  Egypt.  Jer.  41  :  17.  When  Joseph  and 
Mary  came  to  Bethlehem  to  be  taxed,”  together  with 
all  “of  the  house  and  lineage  of  David,”  —  many  hun¬ 
dred  people  —  “there  was  no  room  for  them  in  the  inn.” 
The  streets  were  crowded  with  strangers,  and  the  cool 
night  was  coming  on,  where  should  they  go  ?  Then,  as 
now,  there  were  caves  in  and  around  Bethlehem,  as  well 
as  throughout  the  Holy  Land.  Most  of  them  were  old 
tombs,  or  rooms  cut  out  of  the  rocks  to  put  the  dead  in, 
with  a  hole  before  which  a  stone  was  rolled.  Abraham 
buried  Sarah  in  a  “cave,”  and  Mary  and  Martha  buried 
Lazarus  in  a  “cave,”  and  the  sepulchre  of  our  Saviour 
was  of  the  same  kind.  When  the  families  who  made  or 
owned  them  had  died  out  or  moved  to  another  place, 
these  rock  sepulchres  would  be  left  open  and  neglected, 
and  often  become  the  hiding-places  of  offenders  and  fugi¬ 
tives.  Thus  David,  Elijah,  and  others,  found  refuge 


328 


THE  MANGER. 


\ 

from  their  enemies  in  caves.  During  the  winter,  they 
are  often  used  as  stables  to  shelter  cattle  in  ;  for  in  this 
country  you  find  no  barns  or  stables  as  with  us.  Thus 
it  happened  that  Joseph  and  Mary  sought  shelter  in  this 
cave  under  the  church,  then  it  would  seem  used  as  a 
stable,  hut  open  to  everybody.  While  here  Mary 
“  brought  forth  her  first-born  son,  and  wrapped  him  in 
swaddling-clothes,  and  laid  him  in  a  manger.”  Luke  2  :  7. 
How  singular  that  our  Saviour  should  both  he  born  and 
buried  in  a  ‘‘sepulchre  hewn  in  the  rock” !  Joseph  and 
Mary  had  a  long  way  to  come  (it  is  between  ninety  and 
a  hundred  miles  from  Nazareth  to  Bethlehem),  over* 
rough,  hilly  roads,  in  winter  and  on  foot.  Most  proba¬ 
bly  they  came  over  Jerusalem,  as  the  road  hither  led  that 
way. 

In  sooth  Bethlehem  is  a  pretty  little  town.  The  peo¬ 
ple  are  evidently  more  industrious  than  is  common  in  the 
East,  and  in  spite  of  their  bad  name  they  leave  a  plea¬ 
sant  impression  upon  your  mind.  Here  and  there  I  saw 
a  half-grown  hoy,  lying  under  a  tree  or  in  the  shadow  of 
a  vineyard  wall,  keeping  a  few  sheep  or  goats,  like  so 
many  little  Davids.  Venerable  men,  with  flowing  grey 
beards,  evermore  call  to  your  mind  good  old  Jesse. 
Flocks  of  pigeons  flew  over  the  town,  such  as  Mary,  like 
all  poorer  Jews,  was  permitted  to  oifer  up  as  a  sacrifice. 
Luke  2  :  24.  The  stars  over  Bethlehem  seem  to  twinkle 
more  brightly  than  those  over  other  towns.  When  at 
Jerusalem  I  would  often  look  at  them  of  a  night,  and 
think  that  it  was  there  that  the  “  star  stood  over  where 
the  young  child  was,”  —  the  same  which  guided  hither 
the  wise  men  from  the  East.  The  grass  here  seems  more 
fresh  and  green  than  elsewhere,  though  it  grows  upon 
rocks.  Even  the  little  hill  on  which  our  Saviour  was 


ANCIENT  TEKOAH. 


329 


born,  looks  more  favored  than  many  other  hills  of  Judea. 
Pretty,  pure  white  flowers  bloomed  around  the  edge  of  it, 
which  I  was  glad  to  hear  them  call  “  the  Star  of  Bethle¬ 
hem.”  Never,  after  the  Saviour’s  birth,  is  Bethlehem 
mentioned  in  connection  with  his  history.  To  have  been 
the  birth-place  of  the  Son  of  God,  was  enough  alone  to 
render  its  name  immortal.  The  ground  around  it  is  full 
of  stones,  and  much  of  it  is  unflt  to  farm ;  and  yet  it  is 
worth  more,  and  has  been  more  highly  honored,  than  any 
other  spot  on  earth.  Not  in  Babylon,  Damascus,  Alex¬ 
andria,  or  Rome;  not  even  in  Jerusalem,  but  in  little 
Bethlehem  of  Judea  Jesus  Christ  was  born. 

Some  six  or  eight  miles  from  Bethlehem  heaps  of 
crumbling  ruins  still  mark  the  site  of  ancient  Tekoah. 
There  was  the  home  of  Amos,  who  was  among  the  herd- 
men  of  Tekoah,”  where  the  Lord  took  him  as  he  ‘‘fol¬ 
lowed  the  flock,”  and  sent  him  to  prophesy  unto  Israel. 
Amos  1:1;  7  :  15.  There  he  foretold  the  “  famine  of 
hearing  the  words  of  God,”  which  at  present  curses  the 
Promised  Land.  8  :  11.  When  shall  the  children  of 
Abraham  again  “build  the  waste  cities  and  inhabit  them  ; 
and  plant  vineyards  and  drink  the  wine  thereof;  and 
make  gardens  and  eat  the  fruit  thereof;”  and  be  planted 
in  their  land  no  more  to  be  pulled  up  ?  9  :  14,  15. 
There,  amid  clifiy  gorges,  is  the  cave  of  Adullum,  where 
David  hid  himself  from  Saul  under  the  earth;  where 
“  every  one  that  was  in  distress,  and  every  one  that  was 
in  debt,  and  every  one  that  was  discontented,  gathered 
themselves  unto  him;  and  he  became  a  captain  over 
them  :  and  there  w^ere  with  him  about  four  hundred  men.” 
1  Sam.  22  .  1,  2.  In  this  dreary  hiding-place  he  poured 
out  his  soul  in  psalms  which  have  comforted  the  distressed 
of  all  Christian  ages. 

28  * 


330 


Rachel’s  tomb. 


“  In  the  shadow  of  thy  wings  will  I  make  my  refuge, 

Until  these  calamities  be  overpast. 

I  will  cry  unto  God  most  high, 

Unto  God  that  performeth  all  things  for  me. 

#•••••••** 

I  cried  unto  the  Lord  with  my  voice ; 

With  my  voice  unto  the  Lord  did  I  make  my  supplu  ations, 

I  poured  out  my  complaint  before  him: 

I  shewed  before  him  my  trouble. 

When  my  spirit  was  overwhelmed  within  me: 

Then  Thou  knewest  iny  path.’* 

Ps.  57  and  142. 

On  our  way  to  Jerusalem,  about  ten  minutes  from  Betble- 
nem,  we  came  to  the  tomb  of  Rachel.  The  structure  cannot 
lay  claim  to  very  great  antiquity,  and  the  original  pillar 
is  of  course  gone,  but  the  spot  has  been  hallowed  by 
two  incidents  of  bitter  bereavement.  Jacob  was  on  his 
way  from  Bethel  to  Hebron,  where  old  Isaac  was  still 
living.  When  “  there  was  but  a  little  way  to  Bethlehem,” 
Rachel  gave  birth  to  her  youngest  son^  and  dying,  ‘‘she 
called  his  name  Ben-oni  (son  of  sorrow) :  but  his  father 
called  him  Benjamin.  And  Rachel  died,  and  was  buried 
in  the  way  to  Ephrath,  which  is  Bethlehem.  And  Jacob 
set  a  pillar  upon  her  grave  :  that  is  the  pillar  of  Rachel’s 
grave  unto  this  day.”  Gen.  35.  The  aged  Jacob,  just  before 
his  death  in  Egypt,  narrates  to  Joseph  the  sad  incident 
of  his  mother’s  death.  “And,  as  for  me,  when  I  came 
from  Padan,  Rachel  died  by  me  in  the  land  of  Canaan, 
in  the  way,  when  yet  there  was  hut  a  little  way  to  come 
unto  Ephrath  ;  and  I  buried  her  there  in  the  way  of  Eph¬ 
rath,  the  same  is  Bethlehem.”  Gen.  48  :  7.  I  dismounted 
and  walked  around  the  hallowed  spot,  which  is  marked 
by  a  small  building,  with  a  white-washed  dome.  Within 
is  an  oblong  monument  of  brick,  stuccoed  over.  The 
place  is  somewhat  solitary,  without  a  tree  to  shade  it, 


THE  CONVENT  OF  ELIJAH. 


331 


but  the  dust  of  Jacob’s  lovely  wife,  for  whom  he  patiently 
labored  fourteen  years,  imparts  a  sacredness  in  spite  of 
its  forbidding  surroundings,  where  Moslem,  Jew,  and 
Christian  vie  to  show  respect  and  admiration  for  the  vir¬ 
tuous  wife.  The  Turks  are  anxious  that  their  ashes  may 
rest  near  her’s,  as  many  of  their  graves  around  her 
simple  tomb  show. 

Not  far  from  Rachel’s  tomb  is  a  heap  of  rubbish  and 
ruins,  which  many  identify  with  Ramah.  When  Herod 
slew  all  the  children  of  Bethlehem,  after  Mary  and  Joseph 
had  fled  with  Jesus  to  Egypt,  then  was  fulfilled  that 
which  was  spoken  by  Jeremy  the  prophet,  saying:  In 
Ramah  was  there  a  voice  heard,  lamentation,  and  weeping, 
and  great  mourning,  Rachel  weeping  for  her  children, 
and  would  not  be  comforted,  because  they  are  not.”  Matt. 
2  :  17,  18. 

On  an  elevation  about  an  hour  from  Jerusalem,  we 
passed  the  convent  of  Elijah.  It  stands  on  the  highest 
point  between  Bethlehem  and  the  city.  Mulberry  gar¬ 
dens  and  vineyards  around  it,  give  it  a  cheerful  aspect. 
Along  the  north  of  the  Bethlehem  road  a  stony  and 
uneven  plain,  sloping  down  gradually  toward  the  west, 
spread  out  before  us,  waving  with  a  heavy  crop  of  wheat. 
This  is  “the  Valley  of  Rephaim,”  where  David  smote 
the  Philistines.  2  Sam.  5.  Across  the  ridge  he  fetched 
“  a  compass  behind  them  ;  ”  and  when  he  heard  “  the 
sound  of  a  going  in  the  tops  of  the  mulberry  trees,”  the 
Lord  smote  the  host  of  the  Philistines.  A  great  part  of 
this  valley  has  been  purchased  by  the  Greek  Christians 
at  Jerusalem,  who  are  replanting  it  with  mulberry  trees. 
Thus  its  ancient  features  may,  in  a  few  years,  be  restored 
airain.  The  distance  between  Bethlehem  and  Jerusalem 
is  about  five  miles.  Near  the  road  a  man  was  ploughing. 


832 


THE  OX-GOAD. 


•who  flew  into  a  terrible  rage  about  something,  and  vented 
it  on  his  oxen,  goading  them  lustily.  One  of  them  threw 
itself  on  the  ground,  moaning  pitifully,  hut  his  fury  was 
incapable  of  pity.  The  goad  is  a  stick  five  or  six  feet 
long,  with  a  pointed  iron  prick  at  the  lower  end,  with 
w'hich  they  guide  and  goad  the  ox.  The  other  end  has  a 
sharp  chisel,  and  is  used  to  clean  the  share,  and  to  cut  the 
roots  and  briars  that  choke  it.  When  the  poor,  unruly 
animal  is  pricked  with  the  pointed  end,  it  often  kicks, 
as  in  this  case,  whether  from  pain  or  anger,  by  which  it 
inflicts  on  itself  fresh  wounds.  The  image  is  applied  to 
Saul  of  Tarsus,  who  stubbornly  persisted  to  oppose  the 
urging  of  God’s  Spirit  and  Providence.  The  Lord  calls 
to  him  on  his  w^ay  to  Damascus :  “  It  is  hard  for  thee  to 
kick  against  the  pricks,”  [goads].  Acts  9  :  *5.  “  The 

words  of  the  wise  are  as  goads.”  Eccle.  12  :  11.  In  the 
hands  of  a  strong,  valiant  man,  it  can  be  used  with  deadly 
effect.  Shamgar  slew  six  hundred  Philistines  with  an 
ox-goad.  Judges  3  :  31.  The  Philistines  allowed  the  He¬ 
brews  no  smiths,  lest  they  would  make  them  swords  and 
spears,  but  only  files  to  sharpen  their  goads  and  other 
farming  implements.  1  Sam.  13  :  21. 

Strolling  over  Mount  Zion  one  day,  we  came  to  the 
leper’s  quarters  near  the  Zion  gate.  A  set  of  miserable 
beings  cried  to  us  from  afar,  so  revoltingly  disgusting 
that  I  felt  like  turning  aw^ay  with  a  shudder.  Their  faces 
are  brown,  blotched,  and  bloated,  with  a  scalded  com¬ 
plexion  ;  some  are  without  eyes,  others  without  nose, 
fingers,  or  hands.  Some  had  their  hands  half  eaten  off ; 
others  without  hair,  deformed  beyond  description.  Their 
voices  gurgled  and  screeched  through  palateless  throats, 
and  articulated  with  tongues  decayed  to  a  mere  stump, 
with  most  inhuman  and  unearthly  sounds.  Like  the  ten 


LAWS  CONCERNING  LEPERS. 


338 


lepers  that  came  to  Jesus,  they  stood  afar  off,  lifted  up 
their  voices  ”  and  cried  for  mercy.  Luke  17.  A  more 
miserable  set  of  beings  I  have  never  seen.  They  seem  to 
undergo  gradual  decomposition  before  they  die.  Their 
fingers  and  limbs  drop  off  joint  after  joint,  till  naught  but 
a  mere  stump  is  left.  And  no  effort  is  made  to  heal  up 
or  apply  a  remedy  to  the  diseased  parts.  Just  as  Isaiah 
has  it :  “  From  the  sole  of  the  foot  even  unto  the  head, 
there  is  no  soundness  in  it ;  but  wounds  and  bruises,  and 
putrifying  sores ;  they  have  not  been  closed,  neither 
bound  up,  neither  mollified  with  ointment.”  Isaiah  1 :  6. 

The  laws  of  Moses  respecting  leprosy  were  exceedingly 
stringent.  To  avoid  touching  others,  “  the  leper  in  whom 
the  plague  is,  his  clothes  shall  be  rent,  and  his  head  bare, 
and  he  shall  put  a  covering  upon  his  upper  lip,  and  shall 
cry.  Unclean,  unclean.”  Lev.  13  :  45.  He  was  put  out 
of  the  camp.  His  garments  and  house  were  declared 
unclean,  and  everything  he  touched.  Those  Arabs  that 
dwell  in  tents,  still  literally  put  the  leper  out  of  the 
camp.  “  He  is  unclean ;  he  shall  dwell  alone,  without 
the  camp  shall  his  habitation  be.”  Lev.  13  :  46.  No 
healthy  person  will  touch  them.  In  Jerusalem  they 
have  a  separate  quarter  assigned  them,  reeking  with  filth 
unspeakable.  Outside  the  Jaffa  gate  they  lingered  by 
the  wayside,  and  cried  most  pitifully  for  help,  but  always 
stood  afar  off.”  Nothing  short  of  the  miraculous  power 
of  God  can  cure  the  leprosy.  When  Naaman  applied  to 
the  King  of  Israel  to  be  cured  of  his  leprosy,  ‘‘  he  rent 
his  clothes  and  said.  Am  I  Crod,  to  kill  and  to  make 
alive,  that  this  man  doth  send  unto  me  to  recover  a  man 
of  his  leprosy?”  2  Kings  5.  One  of  the  strongest 
proofs  of  Christ’s  Divinity  was,  that  by  Him  “  the  lepers 
are  cleansed.” 


334 


THE  LEPROSY. 


In  the  13th  and  14th  chapters  of  Leviticus  we  have  a 
full  description  of  its  symptoms  and  phases,  and  of  the 
laws  concerning  it.  This  description  portrays  the  leprosy 
of  the  present  day,  in  all  its  pitiful  details.  It  perpetu¬ 
ates  itself  from  parent  to  child.  The  new-born  infant 
has  a  smooth  skin,  apparently  free  from  it.  Presently 
“  a  scab  or  bright  spot  ”  faintly  appears,  and  the  leprous 
virus  spreads  and  grows  with  its  growth.  ‘‘  The  hair 
falls  from  the  head  and  eyebrows ;  the  nails  loosen,  de¬ 
cay,  and  drop  off ;  joint  after  joint  of  the  fingers  and  toes 
shrink  up,  and  slowly  fall  away.  The  gums  are  absorbed, 
and  the  teeth  disappear.  The  nose,  the  eyes,  the  tongue, 
and  the  palate  are  slowly  consumed,  and  finally  the 
wretched  victim  sinks  into  the  earth  and  disappears, 
while  medicine  has  no  power  to  stay  the  ravages  of  this 
fell  disease,  or  even  to  mitigate  sensibly  its  tortures.” 

With  some  persons  it  is  not  hereditary ;  in  such  cases 
it  is  still  regarded  as  the  direct  result  of  the  curse  of 
God  for  some  sin.  ^  So  it  was  in  the  case  of  Miriam, 
Gehazi,  and  Uzziah,  who  were  smitten  with  leprosy  for 
their  offences  against  God.  Numbers  12  :  10 ;  2  Kings 
5  :  27 ;  2  Chron.  26  :  20.  Of  all  the  numerous  diseases 
which  flesh  is  heir  to,  I  can  conceive  of  none  so  loathsome 
as  this.  Its  victim  is  excluded  from  all  that  can  make 
affliction  endurable.  Shunned  by  all,  his  case  excites 
horror  and  disgust  rather  than  commiseration.  He  must 
have  food,  but  his  pestilential  touch  deprives  him  of 
honest  labor  to  procure  it.  He  sees  others  around  him 
with  the  smooth  joyous  flush  of  health,  but  they  move  in 
another  world,  from  which  he  is  wholly  cut  off.  His 
creaking  wailings  for  bread  only  excite  a  shudder.  The 
very  money  he  begs  becomes  worthless  in  his  leprous 
hands,  so  that  others  dread  its  touch  and  fear  to  receive 


END  OF  THE  LEPER. 


335 


it.  If  he  seek  relief  in  Religion,  he  is  shut  out  from 
mosque,  synagogue,  and  church.  There  is  no  religious 
fellowship  with  a  leper.  None  but  his  fellow  lepers  come 
to  his  dying  couch,  and  when  he  expires  they  will  call 
him  blessed  for  having  ended  his  miserable  existence 
here,  whatever  may  become  of  him  hereafter ;  while  they 
have  to  die  piecemeal  for  a  while  longer,  as  one  joint 
and  member  after  another  decays  away. 


336 


POPULATION  OF  JERUSALEM. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


SniiBiilfra  — —  .Sahm. 


The  whole  population  of  Jerusalem  is  estimated  at 
from  twelve  to  fifteen  thousand.  Of  these  there  are 
.  about  four  thousand  Christians ;  as  many  Jews  ;  and  the 
rest  are  Mohammedans.  Each  of  these  are  confined  to 
separate  quarters  of  the  city.  The  Christian  quarter  extends 
along  the  western  part ;  the  Jews  occupy  the  northeast¬ 
ern  part  of  Mount  Zion,  which  embraces  the  greater  part 
of  it  within  the  wall ;  the  Mohammedans  live  in  the  mid¬ 
dle  and  lower  part.  Each  of  these  forms  a  distinct, 
exclusive  community,  with  all  the  mutual  hatred  and 
antagonism  which  has  ever  distinguished  them.  It  is 
said  that  no  Jew  is  allowed  to  enter  the  Church  of  the 
Sepulchre.  Neither  Jew  nor  Christian  is  allowed  to  enter 
the  mosques  of  Omar  and  El-Aksa.  Then  the  Jews  and 
Christians  are  split  up  into  bitter  parties  among  them¬ 
selves.  The  present  population  of  Jerusalem  is  a  com¬ 
pound  of  the  most  conflicting  and  incoherent  elements, 
hating,  and  being  hated,  with  all  their  might. 

The  Armenian  quarter  is  on  the  western  side  of  Zion, 
and  their  church  and  convent  near  its  gate.  The  former 
is  a  magnificent  edifice.  The  walls  inside  are  overlaid 
with  polished  china  tiles,  and  much  of  its  ornamenting  is 
of  gold.  It  contains  a  heavy  gilded  chair,  reputed  to 


A  DANGEROUS  DIGNITY. 


337 


have  belonged  to  St.  James,  the  first  Bishop  of  Jerusa¬ 
lem.  From  the  roof  of  the  convent  we  had  a  charming 
view  of  the  environs  of  the  citj.  The  Armenian  Patri¬ 
arch,  an  old,  grey -bearded  man,  sat  behind  a  counter,  in 
a  large  hall,  receiving  money.  Envy  and  lust  for  money 
render  bis  place  and  life  very  precarious.  It  is  said 
that  none  of  his  predecessors,  for  many  years,  have  died 
a  natural  death.  Attempts  have  been  made  to  poison 
the  present  venerable  incumbent.  He  mistrusts  his 
own  servants,  and  only  receiv'es  food  from  his  most  trust¬ 
worthy  and  confidential  friends.  This  convent  has  about 
six  hundred  inmates,  and  during  the  present  Easter  festi¬ 
val  is  said  to  have  entertained  six  thousand  pilgrims. 

The  Jews  are  nearly  all  foreigners.  The  most  of  them 
are  from  Spain  and  Turkey ;  some  from  Russia,  Poland, 
and  Germany.  They  show  little  of  that  cunning  shrewd¬ 
ness  in  traflSc  for  which  their  nation  has  become  so  famous 
in  other  countries.  Many  are  the  most  abject  specimens 
of  poverty  and  filth.  They  have  come  hither  to  die  in 
the  land  of  their  fathers,  and  be  buried  in  the  valley  of 
Jehoshaphat ;  beyond  this  they  have  little  concern.  A. 
large  part  of  these  are  supported  by  collections  and  by 
the  contributions  of  wealthy  Jews  from  different  quarters 
of  the  globe.  This  fosters  their  reckless,  do-nothing 
spirit. 

Early  one  morning  a  Jew  led  us  to  their  synagogues, 
where  his  brethren  were  offering  their  morning  devotions. 
By  far  the  filthiest  part  of  Jerusalem  is  this  Jewish 
quarter  —  a  perfect  Augean  stable,  —  where  slaughter¬ 
houses  and  heaps  of  rotten  rubbish  reek,  and  fill  the  air 
with  sickening  stenches.  We  entered  a  synagogue,  where 
a  rabbi  was  seated  on  a  divan,  expounding  the  law  to  a 
little  congregation  around  him.  He  spoke  very  rapidly ; 

29  w 


338 


JEWISH  WORSHIP. 


occasionally  some  of  his  hearers  would  exclaim,  La,  la, 
la,”  (no,  no,  no,)  whether  by  way  of  assent  or  dissent,  1 
do  not  knew.  On  a  gallery  I  noticed  white-veiled  women, 
behind  a  trellised  screen,  peeping  through  the  holes 
down  upon  the  worshippers,  as  if  they  had  to  get  their 
religion  by  stealth.  The  Grand  Patriarch,  a  venerable, 
hoary  man,  was  seated  on  a  raised  platform,  with  several 
rabbis  around  him.  '  When  he  rose  to  leave,  at  the  end 
of  the  service,  a  number  of  them  kissed  his  hand  in  token 
of  reverence. 

At  another  synagogue  we  found  them  singing  the 
Psalms  of  David.  Each  seemed  to  sing  on  his  own  hook, 
without  regard  to  sound  or  harmony  —  producing  a  dis¬ 
sonant  and  most  unmelodious  noise.  One  of  their  num¬ 
ber,  a  Prussian,  remarked  to  me  that  they  were  the  only 
genuine,  orthodox  Jews  in  Jerusalem.  We  keep  the 
old  Mosaic  Law  ;  all  the  others  are  modern  Jews,  that 
have  a  law  of  their  own  making.”  A  literal  Pharisee, 
doubtless,  deserving  to  be  classed  with  the  “  straightest 
sect  ”  of  the  ancients.  His  less-zealous  brethren  may  be 
Sadducees,  Jewish  Rationalists,  who  put  a  more  liberal 
construction  upon  the  Law. 

At  the  western  exterior  side  of  the  wall  around  the  tem¬ 
ple  area,  toward  the  southern  end  of  it,  are  large  stones 
near  the  base  of  the  wall,  dressed  after  the  manner  of 
ancient  building  stones,  which  the  Jews  and  many  others 
suppose  to  have  been  in  the  walls  of  the  ancient  temple. 
Some  of  them  purchase  the  right  to  approach  this  spot 
and  bewail  the  fall  and  desolation  of  their  nation  and 
temple,  from  which  it  derives  the  name  of  “Wailing  place 
of  the  Jews.”  Every  Friday  afternoon,  the  evening  be¬ 
fore  their  Sabbath,  they  come  hither  to  perform  this 


THE  EXILED  JEWS. 


339 


melancholy  service,  in  the  secluded  narrow  alley  that 
runs  along  the  outside  of  the  wall. 

After  the  capture  of  Jerusalem  by  Hadrian,  the  Jews 
were  entirely  excluded  from  the  city.  In  the  reign  of 
Constantine  they  were  permitted  to  get  a  distant  glimpse 
of  it  from  neighboring  hills,  but  could  approach  no  nearer. 
Finally  the  Eoman  soldiers  sold  them  the  privilege  to 
enter  the  city  once  a  year,  on  the  anniversary  of  its 
capture  by  Titus,  to  wail  over  the  ruins  of  the  temple. 
Subsequently  this  privilege  was  extended,  though  some¬ 
times  they  bought  it  at  enormous  prices. 

On  a  Friday  afternoon  we  threaded  the  narrow  streets 
which  leaj  to  this  place.  Near  it  is  a  Moslem  judgment- 
hall,  with  a  verandah  overlooking  the  whole  scene,  and 
from  here  we  witnessed  their  pitiful  ceremonies.  About 
sixty  or  seventy  Jews  had  collected  there,  two-thirds  of 
them  women,  dressed  and  veiled  in  white  linen.  Here 
and  there  small  groups  stood  near  the  wall,  listening  to 
old  men  with  flowing  grey  beards,  who  sat  on  the  ground 
reading  lamentations  to  the  rest ;  some  were  swinging 
their  bodies  and  smiting  their  breasts  in  token  of  grief, 
with  their  faces  toward  the  wall ;  others  wailed  and 
wept;  some  of  the  women  kissed  the  stones;  all  muttered 
half-suppressed  wailings,  some  even  with  tears,  praying 
still  as  their  fathers  had  done  for  centuries  before :  “  Be 
not  wroth  very  sore,  0  Lord,  neither  remember  iniquity 
forever :  behold,  see,  we  beseech  thee,  we  are  all  thy 
people.  Thy  holy  cities  are  a  wilderness,  Zion  is  a  wil¬ 
derness,  Jerusalem  a  desolation.  Our  holy  and  our  beau¬ 
tiful  house,  where  our  fathers  praised  thee,  is  burned  up 
with  fire:  and  all  our  pleasant  things  are  laid  waste.” 
Isaiah  64  :  9-11. 

The  burden  of  Jeremiah’s  lamentation  was  literally 


340 


JEKUSALEM  LAMENTED. 


before  us :  Therefore  he  made  the  rampart  and  the  wall 
to  lament ;  they  languished  together.  Her  gates  are  sunk 
into  the  ground ;  he  hath,  destroyed  and  broken  her  bars. 
The  elders  of  the  daughter  of  Zion  sit  upon  the  ground 
and  keep  silence ;  they  have  cast  up  dust  upon  their 
heads.”  Lamentations  2.  In  their  own  city,  once  the 
‘‘joy  of  the  whole  earth,  the  perfection  of  beauty,”  the 
centre  of  their  worship,  the  dwelling  place  of  the  Most 
High,  and  the  type  of  the  “Jerusalem  above,”  they  sneak 
to  their  synagogues  like  slaves  and  prisoners,  while  their 
hateful  rulers  pass  them  by  with  scowling  contempt. 
Their  Holy  of  Holies,  with  its  officiating  High  Priest, 
trembling  with  awe,  is  trodden  upon  by  the  profane  feet 
of  their  foes.  Their  altar  is  ruined,  and  the  grateful 
incense  no  longer  curls  heavenward  at  their  morning 
and  evening  sacrifices.  The  voice  of  their  sweet  singers 
has  been  hushed,  and  the  immense  festive  multitudes  that 
crowded  around  the  temple,  come  no  longer  up  hither. 
The  heavenly  fire  that  kindled  their  offerings,  has  been 
extinguished.  “  The  Lord  hath  cast  off  his  altar,  he  hath 
abhorred  his  sanctuary,  he  hath  given  up  into  the  hand 
of  the  enemy  the  walls  of  her  palaces.”  The  din  and 
noise  of  the  crowds  of  Moslems  in  the  Mosque  of  Omar, 
on  Fridays  and  festival  days,  reminds  them  of  their  own 
festivals.  “  They  have  made  a  noise  in  the  house  of  the 
Lord,  as  in  the  day  of  a  solemn  feast.”  “  Our  inlieriU 
ance  is  turned  to  strangers^  our  houses  to  aliens.  We 
have  drunken  our  water  for  money ;  our  wood  is  sold  to 
us.  Our  fathers  have  sinned,  and  are  not ;  and  we  have 
borne  their  iniquities.”  Lamentations  5.  And  while  they 
endure  this,  their  chuckling  tyrants  “  wag  their  head  at 
the  daughter  of  Jerusalem,  saying :  Is  this  the  city  that 
men  call  The  perfection  of  beauty.  The  joy  of  the  whole 


ANCIENT  VAULT. 


341 


earth?”  Lamentations  2  :  15.  This  the  poor  Jew  has 
borne  for  eighteen  centuries.  For  more  than  six  hundred 
long  years  he  has  kissed  these  stones  in  the  wall,  and 
cried  sorrowfully  to  his  God :  How  long  shall  the  land 
mourn?”  A  more  touching  and  impressive  spectacle 
than  these  lamenting  Jews  can  nowhere  be  found.  While 
watching  their  lamentations,  a  few  turtle-doves  familiarly 
walked  in  the  holes  of  the  wall  right  above  them,  and  but 
a  few  rods  from  where  the  ancients  used  to  sacrifice  them 
on  the  temple  altar.  Luke  2  :  24. 

Walking  along  the  southern  end  of  the  city,  an  English 
gentleman  directed  my  attention  to  a  hole  in  the  wall 
about  ten  feet  from  the  ground.  Seeing  no  Turkish  sen¬ 
tinels  about,  we  climbed  up  and  looked  through  the  small 
holes  of  the  wooden  screen  that  covered  it.  Inside  was  a 
vault  with  nine  or  ten  large  columns,  which  we  faintly 
discerned  by  the  aid  of  a  few  cracks  at  the  opposite  end. 
It  is  well  knowm  that  during  the  Hebrew  dominion  of 
Jerusalem,  the  priests  were  in  the  habit  of  going  to  the 
pool  of  Siloam  in  procession,  to  bring  water  to  the  tem¬ 
ple.  This  vault  ranges  with  the  temple  and  the  lower 
pool  of  Siloam,  and  is  naturally  regarded  by  some  as 
identical  with  this  ancient  passage. 

The  general  appearance  of  the  houses  in  Jerusalem  is 
like  that  of  most  other  oriental  towns.  Usually  the  front 
presents  a  solid  wall,  very  rarely  with  windows,  and  these 
mostly  have  lattice-work  over  them  instead  of  glass.  A 
small  door,  with  a  wooden  latch,  admits  you  to  the  inte¬ 
rior  court,  around  which  are  the  rooms  for  the  family. 
A  stairway  leads  to  the  flat  roof,  sometimes  with  a  sinal. 
round  dome  in  the  centre.  Many  of  the  rooms  and  houses 
are  roofed  with  thick  arched  walls,  to  exclude  the  heat  in 
summer.  Almost  every  house  has  a  cistern  to  supply  it 
29* 


342 


BAZAARS  IN  JERUSALEM. 


with  water.  Besides  these  there  are  the  large  pools  and 
cisterns  in  various  parts  of  the  city. 

The  bazaars  are  pretty  much  in  the  centre  of  the  city. 
All  the  business  and  trade  of  Jerusalem  is  collected  here. 
Ordinarily  this  is  trifling  enough.  When  the  city  is 
thronged  with  pilgrims  during  the  Easter  festival,  the 
bazaars  are  crowded.  But  all  commerce  and  street  bustle 
vanishes  with  these.  Its  trafiic  and  streets  know  no  Sab¬ 
bath  rest.  Jerusalem,  like  all  Eastern  cities,  has  three 
Sabbath-days  every  week, — Friday,  Saturday,  and  Sun¬ 
day  ;  hut  they  differ  little  from  her  other  days. 

Including  the  pilgrims,  there  must  have  been  from 
25,000  to  30,000  people  in  Jerusalem  when  I  was  there. 
At  some  of  the  Jewish  feasts  there  were  hundreds  of 

s 

thousands  present.  Under  the  governorship  of  Cestius 
there  were  over  two  millions  and  a  half  present  at  a  Pass- 
over  festival.  Of  course  a  great  part  of  these  must  have 
dwelt  in  tents  without  the  city  walls.  When  the  moun¬ 
tains  round  about  Jerusalem  ”  were  peopled  with  these 
immense  festive  throngs,  with  the  city  and  temple  in  the 
centre,  sending  up  clouds  of  sacrificial  incense,  while  all 
prayed  with  their  faces  towards  it ;  when  on  the  hill-tops 
they  caught  the  anthem  peals  of  the  sweet  singers  in  the 
temple,  and  rolled  back  a  responsive  tide  of  praise,  the 
whole  must  have  been  a  scene  of  enrapturing  interest. 

Most  of  the  towns  and  villages  of  Judea  were  on  hill¬ 
tops,  but  Jerusalem  w^as  pre-eminently  so.  Its  situation  is 
on  the  edge  of  one  of  the  highest  table-lands  of  Palestine. 
Hebron  is  a  few  hundred  feet  higher,  so  that  the  approach 
from  this  direction  is  by  a  slight  descent.  But  from  every 
other  side  you  approach  it  by  an  ascent.  To  the  travel¬ 
ler  it  must  always  have  appeared  as  a  mountain  city, 
whose  pure  bracing  air  contrasted  pleasantly  with  the 


MOUNTAIN  STRONGHOLDS. 


343 


miasmatic  atmosphere  of  Jericho  and  with  the  dead  plain 
of  Damascus.  It  was  “  the  mountain  throne,”  the  moun¬ 
tain  sanctuary  of  God.”  “  His  foundation  is  in  the  holy 
mountains.^^  Ps.  87  :  1.  “  The  hill  of  God  is  as  the  hill 

of  Bashan ;  an  high  hill  as  the  hill  of  Bashan.  This  is 
the  mountain  which  God  delighteth  to  dwell  in.”  Ps. 
68  :  15-16.  Prom  this  mountain  elevation  Israel  looked 
out  upon  the  world.  It  was  “  the  mountain  of  the  Lord’s 
house,” — established  on  the  tops  of  the  mountains,' ' — 
exalted  above  the  hills"  —  ‘‘to  which  all  nations  should 
go  up."  Isa.  2.  When  “the  Lord  had  a  controversy 
with  his  people,”  it  was  to  he  “  before  the  mountains  and 
the  hills,"  and  “  the  strong  foundations  of  the  earth.” 
Micah  6  :  1,  2.  “Whither  the  tribes  go  up,"  “the  hills 
from  whence  cometh  my  help.”  Ps.  121,  122.  These  are 
all  metaphors  taken  from  the  elevated  position  of  Jerusa¬ 
lem  and  Zion,  where  God  had  his  dwelling-place.  These 
heights  and  depths  of  Jerusalem,  (the  mountain  on  which 
it  is  built,  and  the  wells  and  the  vaults  under  it,)  are 
beautifully  symbolical  of  the  incomprehensible  heights 
and  depths  of  Him  who  made  it  His  ancient  abode. 

This  mountain  culminated  in  the  highest  point  of  the 
city;  the  “stronghold  of  Zion,  the  same  is  the  city  of 
David.”  Here  the  Jebusites  defied  him  from  their  strong 

fortress,  with  its  “everlasting  gates,”  which  had  never 

* 

opened  to  an  enemy.  Hitherto  the  Jews  had  dwelt  out¬ 
side  of  Jerusalem.  They  had  captured  almost  every  pro¬ 
vince  of  Canaan ;  but  here  was  a  clan  in  a  fort  which 
seemed  to  mock  every  attempt  of  Jewish  invaders.  Joshua, 
Deborah,  Samuel,  Saul,  and  David,  must  often  have 
passed  in  sight  of  it,  and  gazed  on  its  towers.  After  the 
destruction  of  Shiloh,  the  worship  of  Israel  was  conducted 
at  Nob  on  the  northern  summit  of  Olivet,  in  sight  of  Jeru- 


844  VICISSITUDES  OF  THE  HOLY  CITY. 

Salem.  Here,  in  sight  of  this  unconquered  stronghold  ’* 
of  Jehus,  they  worshipped  during  the  earlier  years  of 
Saul.  Here  David  stopped  in  his  flight  from  Saul,  and 
received  hallowed  bread  from  Ahimelech  the  priest.  1  Sam. 
21.  Finally,  after  he  was  anointed  King  over  Israel  at 
Hebron,  he  took  the  city,  and  dwelt  in  the  fort.”  2  Sam. 
5.  Ever  afterward'  Jerusalem  remained  the  capital  of 
the  Hebrew  nation,  and  the  centre  of  their  worship. 

It  was  demolished  by  the  Babylonians  4T7  years  later. 
Then  it  was  successively  taken  by  Shishak,  King  of 
Egypt,  Nebuchadnezzar,  Antiochus,  Pompey,  Sosius, 
Herod,  and  finally  by  Titus,  in  the  reign  of  Vespasian. 
Adrian  having  destroyed  it,  built  a  new  town,  which, 
for  several  centuries,  went  by  the  name  of  .®lia.  Con¬ 
stantine  restored  its  ancient  name,  and  adorned  it  with 
splendid  churches  and  other  edifices.  Then  began  the 
pilgrimages  thither  from  all  parts  of  Christendom ;  mil¬ 
lions  upon  millions  since  then  have  knelt  around  the 
Holy  Sepulchre.  The  city  has  passed  through  checkered 
and  trying  vicissitudes  for  the  last  1400  ye^rs.  The 
Persians  took  it  with  a  great  slaughter.  In  614  it  was 
sacked  and  plundered,  and  the  Church  of  the  Holy 
Sepulchre  burned.  In  636  it  was  captured  and  totally 
taken  from  the  Christians  by  the  Caliph  Omar.  From 
this  on  we  know  little  about  its  history  until  1099,  when 
the  Crusades  began.  After  many  hundred  thousand 
Crusaders  had  perished  by  pestilence,  famine,  and  the 
Moslems,  they  got  possession  of  the  city.  In  1187,  the 
Mohammedans  recaptured  it,  after  being  under  Christian 
dominion  for  less  than  one  hundred  years.  The  red 
crescent  flag  of  the  Turk  still  floats  over  the  Tower  and 
City  of  David.  It  has  now  existed  about  4000  years. 
During  this  period,  it  has  shared  largely  in  the  world’s 
eventful  history,  —  and  the  end  Is  not  yet !  ” 


FUTURE  OF  JERUSALEM. 


345 


It  would  require  a  prophet’s  ken  to  surmise  what  part 
Jerusalem  will  be  likely  to  act  in  the  future  history  of 
the  world.  Apparently  it  is  an  insignificant  inland  town. 
It  has  neither  population  nor  commerce  to  give  it  im¬ 
portance.  It  is  thirty  miles  from  the  sea-coast,  too  far 
for  commercial  purposes.  A  great  part  of  its  inhabitants 
are  non-producing  monks  and  indolent  Jews.  Yet  every 
first  and  second-rate  government  must  have  its  represent¬ 
ative  in  Jerusalem.  England,  Austria,  Prussia,  France, 
Russia,  the  United  States,  all  have  their  consuls  here. 
The  city  itself,  apart  from  its  history  and  peculiar  rela¬ 
tions  to  the  religious  world,  does  not  deserve  all  this 
attention.  Evidently  there"  is  a  growing  interest  drifting 
toward  Jerusalem,  which  causes  nations  to  turn  their  eyes 
thither ;  for  what  purpose  the  future  will  show. 

My  last  act  in  Jerusalem  w'as  another  brief  visit  to 
Gethsemane  on  the  morning  of  our  departure.  I  hur¬ 
ried  out  the  St.  Stephen’s  gate,  down  the  hill  and  across 
the  Kedron,  and  paused  a  few  moments  in  the  Chapel  of 
the  Virgin  Mary.  A  flight  of  stairs,  consisting  of  sixty 
steps,  led  me  dowm  into  a  dark  basement,  where  flicker¬ 
ing  festoons  of  lamps  hung  over  head.  Though  early  in 
the  morning,  a  goodly  number  of  persons  were  already 
there,  singing  and  praying  with  apparent  devotion.  An 
earnest  rap  at  the  heavy  little  gate  of  Gethsemane,  soon 
brought  the  monk  with  his  large  key,  and  a  smiling 
^^Bonjour^  monsieur.'* 

I  meditated  awhile  under  the  trellised  vine,  and  read 
the  narrative  of  the  Saviour’s  agony  wdth  much  comfort, 
and  called  upon  him  for  needed  grace  to  be  faithful  to  him. 
As  I  rose  to  leave,  the  monk  plucked  a  small  bunch  of 
roses  for  me,  and  then  I  hastened  hack  to  the  city. 

For  several  days  before  our  departure  it  was  rumored 


346 


TOMBS  OF  THE  KINGS. 


that  the  Arab  tribes  between  Jerusalem  and  Nablous  were 
about  to  engage  in  battle,  and  that  it  would  be  very 
unsafe  to  start  on  a  journey.  Travellers  were  fearful  of  ven¬ 
turing  through  here  at  such  a  time,  and  with  good  reason. 
Finally,  at  the  advice  of  the  English  consul,  we  concluded  to 
make  the  trial.  We  had  hired  the  animals  and  muleteers 
to  take  us  clear  through  to  Beirutr  At  half  past  ten  w^e 
mounted  our  horses,  kissed  the  hand  toward  our  host, 
Antonio,  and  rode  up  the  Way  of  Sorrow  for  the  last 
time.  With  diflSculty  we  worked  our  way  along  the 
crowded  bazaars  and  out  the  Jaffa  gate.  Lepers  cried 
after  us  ^‘from  afar”  along  the  wayside.  The  owner 
of  our  horses  took  formal  leave  of  us,  by  kissing  our  hands, 
and  asking  us  to  be  kind  to  his  brother,  who  was  going 
along.  We  rode  around  the  northern  end  of  the  city, 
past  a  heap  of  ashes,  supposed  to  have  been  poured  down 
from  the  wall  of  the  ancient  city.  We  felt  desirous  to 
visit  the  Tombs  of  the  Kings,  a  short  distance  north  of 
the  city,  and  dismounted  for  that  purpose ;  but,  looking 
through  the  low  door  into  a  dark  chamber,  it  occurred 
to  us  that  we  had  neglected  to  bring  lights  along.  There 
are  many  tombs  of  this  kind  in  the  neighborhood  ot 
Jerusalem,  of  a  great  variety  of  sizes  and  shapes.  Some 
of  them  are,  doubtless,  still  buried  with  rubbish.  Some 
are  single  graves,  hewn  out  of  the  rock ;  others  consist 
of  a  chamber,  entered  by  a  door,  with  several  niches  or 
shelves  to  put  the  dead  in ;  others  have  a  series  of 
chambers,  with  their  shelves.  The  doors  of  some  consist 
of  a  round  stone,  shaped  somewhat  like  a  millstone,  set 
upright  in  a  groove,  in  which  it  can  be  rolled  to  the  door 
without  much  effort,  yet  perhaps  too  much  for  females  to 
perform.  So  Joseph,  after  he  had  laid  our  Saviour  “in 
his  own  new  tomb,  hewn  out  in  a  rock ;  he  rolled  a  great 


ROCK  CISTERNS. 


347 


stone  to  the  door  of  the  sepulchre,  and  departed.”  Matt. 
27  :  60.  ‘‘And  the  women,  going  to  the  sepulchre,  said 
to  one  another.  Who  shall  roll  us  away  the  stone  from 
the  door  of  the  sepulchre  ?  ”  Mark  16:3. 

This  country,  especially  Judea,  abounds  with  empty 
cisterns,  cut  out  of  the  rocks  —  often  called  “pits”  in 
the  Scriptures.  The  open,  uncovered  mouth  is  several 
feet  square,  with  nothing  around  it ;  so  that  man  and 
beast  are  constantly  in  danger  of  falling  into  them. 
“  Which  of  you  shall  have  an  ass  or  an  ox  fallen  into  a 
pit,  and  will  not  straightway  pull  him  out  on  the  sabbath- 
day  ?  ”  Luke  14  :  5.  Some  have  not  been  repaired  or 
used  for  hundreds  of  years,  and  are  without  water,  or 
perhaps  half  filled  with  mire.  “  The  dungeon  ”  or  pit 
into  which  Jeremiah  was  put  “  had  no  water,  but  mire ; 
so  Jeremiah  sunk  into  the  mire.”  Jer.  38  :  6.  The 
jealous  sons  of  Jacob  cast  Joseph  “  into  a  pit :  and  the 
pit  was  empty ;  there  was  no  water  in  it.”  Gen.  37  :  24. 
The  dependent,  leaky  cisterns,  which,  different  from  the 
self-sufiicient  flowing  fountains,  derive  their  water  from 
the  rains  or  pools  —  and  then  often  cannot  hold  it  —  fur¬ 
nished  Jeremiah  with  one  of  his  most  striking  and  in 
structive  metaphors:  “For  my  people  have  committed 
two  evils ;  they  have  forsaken  me,  the  fouiitain  of  living 
waters,  and  hewed  them  out  cisterns  —  broken  cisterns, 
that  can  hold  no  water.”  Jer.  2  :  13.  Perhaps  our  Sa¬ 
viour  had  these  numerous  pit-falls  in  his  mind,  into  which 
the  incautious  footman  is  so  liable  to  fall,  when  He  said 
of  the  Pharisees  :  “  If  the  blind  lead  the  blind,  both  shall 
fall  into  the  ditch.”  Matt.  15  :  14. 

About  three-quarters  of  an  hour  from  the  city  wo 
reached  a  hill-top,  supposed  to  be  “  the  sco'pus''  of  Titus 
where  he  had  his  first  view  of  Jerusalem.  We  turned 


348 


MIZPEH  AND  GIDEON. 


our  horses  to  take  a  parting  view  of  the  most  interesting 
of  all  earth’s  cities.  Her  ruined  and  mournful  aspect 
melted  away  in  the  distance,  and  again  she  looked  ‘‘  beau¬ 
tiful  for  situation.”  Here  we  take  leave  of  the  earthly 
Jerusalem,  down-trodden,  persecuted,  ruined.  ‘‘  Pray  for 
the  peace  of  Jerusalem;  they  shall  prosper  that  love 
thee.”  Soon  may4he  happy  day  come,  when 

“  The  ransomed  of  the  Lord  shall  return, 

And  come  to  Zion  with  songs, 

And  everlasting  joy  upon  their  heads.^^ 

Isaiah  35  :  10. 

On  a  hill-top  west  of  us  we  saw  Mizpeh,  where  Samuel 
used  to  assemble  the  Israelites.  1  Sam.  7:5;  10  :  17. 
Between  two  and  three  hours  from  Jerusalem  we  passed 
‘‘Gibeah  of  Saul” — a  green  hill  spread  over  with  olive 
trees.  1  Sam.  10  :  26  ;  2  Sam.  21 :  6.  Half  an  hour 
further  we  reached  another  low  hill,  crowned  with  a  few 
Arab  hovels  amidst  clusters  of  olives,  the  site  of  Gibeon, 
where  Joshua  fought  the  five  kings.  In  the  heat  of  the 
battle  the  Lord  cast  down  great  stones  from  heaven  upon 
his  enemies.  And  when  the  evening  came  on,  with  the 
battle  unfinished,  Joshua  bade  Time  to  stop  on  its  onward 
march,  and  tffb  sun  and  moon  ‘‘  hasted  not  to  go  down 
about  a  whole  day.  And  there  was  no  day  like  that  be¬ 
fore  it  or  after  it.”  Joshua  10.  It  was  here  that  the 
Lord  appeared  to  Solomon  in  a  dream  and  said:  “Ask 
what  I  shall  give  thee.”  And  Solomon  asked  neither  for 
long  life,  nor  for  riches,  nor  the  life  of  his  enemies ;  but 
for  “  understanding  to  discern  judgment.”  1  Kings  3 : 4-14. 

According  to  an  old  custom,  which  allows  no  early 
start  from  Jerusalem,  the  Easter  pilgrims  still  make  Bir, 
near  ancient  Gibeon,  their  first  stopping  place  on  their 


Jacob’s  dream. 


3t9 


homeward  way,  where  the  ruined  walls  of  a  convent  have 
been  converted  into  an  inn,”  for  their  accommodation. 
Their  chief  reason  for  stopping  here,  however,  is  the  trv 
dition  that  Joseph  and  Mary  “went  a  day’s  journey” 
hither,  where  they  sought  Jesus,  but  twelve  years  old, 
“among  their  kinsfolk  and  among  their  acquaintance.” 
Luke  2  :  44. 

After  a  brief  interval  of  repose  in  the  shade  of  a  crum¬ 
bling  wall  near  a  well,  at  this  first  halting  place  of  the 
pilgrims,  we  proceeded  to  Bethel.  A  village  on  a  hill, 
with  still  higher  hills  around  it,  at  present  bears  this  dis¬ 
tinguished  name.  It  is  at  a  distance  of  about  fifteeti 
miles  from  Jerusalem.  Rocks  and  heaps  of  stones  every¬ 
where  abound,  interspersed  with  an  occasional  green  spot 
of  wheat  or  barley.  The  houses  and  ruins  of  the  village 
cover  an  area  of  three  or  four  acres.  While  the  rest 
stopped  outside,  I  rode  through  some  of  its  crooked  lanes 
to  get  a  nearer  view  of  the  modern  Bethelites.  My  ap¬ 
pearance  created  quite  a  sensation.  Men  and  women 
stared  at  me,  and  a  herd  of  children  left  their  play  and 
shouted  “howaje,  howaje,”and,  of  course,  bucksheesh.  An 
old  Arab  pointed  me  to  the  lower  end  of  the  town,  where 
I  found  the  massive  ruins  of  a  church,  with  walls  ten  feet 
thick. 

On  one  of  the  high  hills  east  of  Bethel  Abraham 
pitched  his  tent,  where  he  built  an  altar  and  called  on 
the  name  of  the  Lord.  Gen.  12  :  8.  It  was  quite  natural, 
amid  such  a  profusion  of  stones,  that  Jacob  should  gather 
a  few  for  his  pillow,  as  he  laid  him  down  to  rest  one  night 
on  his  way  to  Haran.  Here  he  had  his  dream,  and  be 
held  “  a  ladder  set  up  on  the  earth,  and  the  top  of  it 
reached  to  heaven :  and  behold  the  angels  of  God  ascend¬ 
ing  and  descending  on  it.”  Gen.  28.  Afterward  he  re- 
30 


350 


FIG  PLANTATIONS. 


\ 


turned  hither  and  built  an  altar,  and  called  the  place 
‘‘Beth-el,”  House  of  God.”  Gen.  35  :  14, 15.  Samuel 
came  to  Bethel  once  a  year  to  judge  the  people.  After 
the  ten  tribes  had  seceded,  Jeroboam  erected  a  golden 
calf  here  and  led  the  people  to  commit  idolatry.  1  Kings 
12  :  28.  Then  Josiah  destroyed  its  idols  and  altars, 
and  burned  upon  them  dead  men’s  bones  from  the  sepul¬ 
chres.  2  Kings  23  :  15, 16. 

After  leaving  Bethel  we  came  to  large  fig  plantations, 
on  steep,  terraced  hills,  extending  from  top  to  base ; 
some  of  them  were  planted  in  regular  rows,  with  pome¬ 
granates  between  them.  They  were  unusually  large  — ■ 
from  one  to  two  feet  in  diameter.  There  is  an  early  kind, 
that  bears  a  large  green  fig,  which  in  the  south  of 
Palestine  ripens  in  April.  They  often  have  fruit  be¬ 
fore  leaves,  especially  the  early  kind.  When  the  Sa¬ 
viour  cursed  the  fig  tree  on  Olivet,  the  time  for  the  late 
figs  had  not  yet  come.  The  leaves  on  the  tree  gave  Him 
the  greater  reason  to  expect  fruit  on  it.  Mark  11.  I 
should  infer  from  the  thriving  appearance  of  the  fig  tree, 
when  in  other  soil,  apparently  better,  it  looks  so  dwarfish, 
that  some  are  still  in  the  habit  to  ‘‘  dig  about  it,  and 
dung  it.”  Luke  13  :  8.  We  encamped  at  The  well  of  the 
Thieves,  in  a  grassy  ravine,  an  hour  and  a  half  beyond 
Bethel.  The  hot  day  was  followed  by  a  cool,  damp  night, 
anything  but  agreeable  to  dwellers  in  tents. 

Our  horses  and  Syrian  muleteers  have  brought  us 
greater  comfort,  but  they  lack  the  picturesque  and  poet¬ 
ical  element  of  the  Bedouins  and  their  camels.  The 
heavy  chests  and  bales  had  to  be  lifted  on  the  backs  of 
the  horses,  for  they  had  not  been  taught  to  kneel  in  re¬ 
ceiving  their  burdens.  There  was  a  great  flourish  of 
swords  and  guns  among  our  Syrians  to  intimidate  the 


THE  PLAIN  OF  SALEM. 


351 


robbers,  but  it  is  to  be  feared  that  there  was  more  show 
than  real  grit  and  courage  among  us. 

April  2\.st.  —  We  continued  our  journey  across  in¬ 
terminable  hills,  and  threaded  their  narrow  valleys.  In 
a  few  hours  we  passed  out  of  Judea  into  Samaria. 
Shiloh,  once  the  centre  of  Hebrew  worship,  we  passed 
several  hours  to  our  right.  1  Sam.  1.  The  insecurity 
of  the  country  made  it  unsafe  to  separate  from  the  bag¬ 
gage  and  muleteers,  and  in  this  hilly  region  we  could  not 
always  take  them  with  us,  so  that  we  had  to  leave  some 
interesting  places  unvisited.  Hescending  a  steep  stony 
hill,  we  came  to  the  Khan  el-Lubban,  an  old  unshaded 
ruin.  Near  by  was  a  copious  fountain,  around  which 
the  women  of  a  neighboring  village  were  washing.  The 
stream  was  their  wash-tub,  and  stones  their  washing 
machines,  on  Avhich  they  beat  their  garments.  Other 
women  were  filling  skins  with  water  and  conveying  them 
home  on  donkeys,  to  the  village  of  Lubban,  about  two 
miles  off,  which  Robinson  thinks  is  the  Lebonah  of  the 
Bible.  Judges  21  :  19. 

The  fountain  is  at  the  end  of  a  lovely  plain  about 
fifteen  miles  long,  with  luxuriant  wheat-fields  and  pastur¬ 
age.  Tradition  says  that  this  is  the  plain  of  Salem, 
whose  King  “  Melchizedek,  the  priest  of  the  most  high 
God,  brought  forth  bread  and  wine”  to  Abraham  on  his 
return  from  battle.  Gen.  14  :  18.  Ileb.  7.  On  a  neigh¬ 
boring  mountain-top  the  tomb  of  a  Mohammedan  saint 
was  embowered  among  a  group  of  trees.  Here  and 
there  an  old  rough-rinded  olive  stood  on  the  plain.  The 
Mohammedans  seldom  plant  shade  trees,  save  around  the 
tombs  of  the  revered  dead.  The  villages  here  and  else¬ 
where  have  rarely  a  tree  to  shade  them.  The  intense 
heat  of  the  sun  had  roasted  the  earth  in  the  streets  into 


352 


THE  PURPLE  LILY. 


deep  dust,  over  which  the  visible  air  shook  in  quivering 
wavelets.  Squalid  Arab  women  and  children  were  creep¬ 
ing  and  crouching  around  the  little  doors  of  their  hovels, 
like  mice  around  their  boles.  Nowhere  but  in  their  filthy 
pens  have  they  shade  to  shelter  them  from  the  burning 
sun 

We  found  a  large  dark-purple  lily  here,  and  afterward 
in  the  plain  of  Jezreel,  whose  color  and  texture  were  of 
uncommon  beauty.  The  large  petal,  with  an  exceedingly 
fine  texture,  and  a  'soft  gorgeously  purple  surface,  re¬ 
sembled  a  very  fine  silk  velvet.  I  tried  to  preserve 
specimens,  but  the  color  and  rich  gloss  vanished  when 
they  faded.  I  have  seen  no  allusion  to  it  by  other 
travellers,  but  it  seems  to  me  the  Saviour  must  have  had 
this  in  His  mind  when  He  spoke  of  the  lily.  “  Solomon 
in  all  his  glory  ”  as  well  as  other  kings,  great  men  and 
rich,  were  in  the  habit  of  wearing  purple.  The  kings 
of  Midian  wore  purple  raiment.  Judges  8j  26.  Mordecai 
and  the  rich  man  wore  it.  And  when  the  Jews  wanted 
to  mock  our  Saviour  as  their  pretended  King,  they  and 
the  soldiers  clothed  Him  with  purple.”  I  take  it  that 
Christ  must  have  had  such  a  charming  purple  lily  in 
view  when  he  said :  “  Consider  the  lilies  of  the  field  how 
they  grow ;  they  toil  not,  neither  do  they  spin ;  and  yet 
I  say  unto  you,  that  even  Solomon  in  all  his  glory,  was 
not  arrayed  like  one  of  these.”  Matt.  6  :  28,  29. 


THE  PLAIN  OF  MUKHNA. 


353 


CHAPTER  XV. 


Will  nf  Satnii — lamnrta. 


April  ^Ist. — While  the  mountains  of  Judea  are  mostly 
conical,  in  Samaria  they  run  in  ridges  and  long  chains, 
forming  large  fertile  plains.  The  Judean  hills  are  much 
harder  to  farm.  The  soil  can  only  he  kept  on  them  by 
means  of  walls  and  terraces.  Where  these  are  gone, 
there  is  seldom  anything  but  the  bare  limestone  rocks. 
The  mountains  of  Samaria  are  only  used  for  pasturage. 
The  large  plains,  with  a  soft  rich  soil  free  from  rocks, 
are  easily  cultivated.  Even  in  their  present  neglected 
condition,  some  of  them  appear  as  charming  as  a  Para¬ 
dise.  At  noon  we  reached  a  hill-top  overlooking  the 
large  plain  of  Mukhna.  The  view  was  most  enrapturing. 
The  broad  valley,  from  two  to  three  miles  wide  and 
^  several  hours  long,  was  nestled  between  lofty  hills.  The 
'whole  of  it  was  cultivated,  a  perfect  sea  of  waving  ver¬ 
dure,  with,  here  and  there,  a  white  turban  starting  out 
of  the  wheat ;  and  awkward  ploughmen  goaded  on  their 
oxen,  and  others  sowed  their  spring  seed.  Clumps  of 
olive  trees  were  thinly  scattered  along  the  foot  of  the 
mountain.  Here  and  there  a  small  mud-colored  village 
hung  on  a  hillock  like  a  magnified  wasp’s  nest.  The 
mountains  of  Ebal  and  Gerizim  rose  up  into  view  with 
lofty  prominence.  Near  their  base  was  a  small  white 
30  *  X 


354 


Jacob’s  well. 


mosque  over  the  reputed  grave  of  Joseph,  close  to  the 
well  of  Jacob. 

We  rode  leisurely  over  this  charming  plain,  viewing 
its  fields  and  people,  and  musing  over  its  history.  Its 
products,  as  then  seen,  were  barley,  wheat,  flax,  and 
millet.  At  the  mouth  of  a  narrow  vallev,  connectinoj 
with  the  plain  from  the  west,  and  formed  by  Ebal  and 
Gerizim,  was  a  small  hill,  like  a  heap  of  earth  and  stones, 
over  and  around  the  mouth  of  Jacob’s  well.  We  crept 
and  slid  down  through  a  small  hole  into  a  stone  vault, 
which  is  perhaps  fifteen  or  twenty  feet  long,  arched  over 
the  mouth  of  the  well.  A  large,  loose  stone  is  said  to 
cover  it,  which  we  could  not  find  for  the  other  stones 
scattered  over  it.  The  well  is  now  about  seventv-five  feet 
deep  —  “  the  well  is  deep,”  as  the  Samaritan  woman 
told  Jesus.  Its  quantity  of  water  varies  somewhat  with 
the  seasons  of  the  vear. 

Standing  on  this  elevation  at  the  mouth  of  the  well, 

Mr.  M - told  me  to  read  the  fourth  chapter  of  John 

aloud.  If  this  chapter  had  been  written  that  week,  the 
natural  objects  around  the  well  could  not  have  corres¬ 
ponded  more  perfectly  with  its  contents.  The  top  of 
Mount  Gerizim  was  in  sight,  a  mile  or  two  off,  where  the 
Samaritans,  then  as  now,  worshipped  round  a  common 
altar.  They  held  that  only  those  who  worshipped  here 
could  be  saved,  and  the  Jews  said:  “In  Jerusalem  is 
the  place  where  men  ought  to  worship.”  Although 
Christ  told  the  woman,  that  salvation  is  of  the  Jews, 
He  pointed  her  to  the  Catholic  spiritual  worship  of  the 
Gospel,  which  would  neither  be  confined  to  Jerusalem 
nor  Gerizim.  Sitting  at  the  well,  we  may  imagine  Him 
pointing  to  the  Samaritan  altar  right  above  on  Gerizim, 
when  He  said:  “^Yoman,  believe  me,  the  hour  cometh 


—  —  ^  r*  t-  *  y  - 


8^5 


Tz.eii  s^Lall  n.ei::ii€r  in  iki^  monn'aim  nor  Tet:  i;i  Jem- 

m  9 

silem.  virszin  ine-  Fiiner . When  the  me  '^zr- 


'hfrpem  sii-LlI  '^er^hin  thie  Fitner  in  spirit  and  in  tm:n: 
lor  tne  Fitner  seekeeh  eneh  to  vorshin  Him.** 


jwir- 


:e  pin; 


ye  nsd  i  complete  Tte^  of 


enr  eleT^tei  poertioim  A  gentle  yind  b’ey  a-rr^oss 
rnFm  r  green  ya^ee  'OVer  tne  top-  Tiie  yheat 
yis  jnst  turning  yhite,  and  the  barlej  y-is  fast  ripenitg. 
Fn;-igh  the  haryeet  yas  appntachinr.  stme  were  spying 
the  spying  or  snrnmer  see^L  Jost  such  a  scene  spread 
ont  to  the  Saviour's  viey.  yhen  he  restei  himseii  on  the 

sP'«ot  yhere  I  stood-  **  SaT  nos  ve.  There  are  vet  four 

^  •  •  • 

months-  and  then  e^omech  harvest  t  be'nolA  I  sav  nnto  vou, 
lift  nr  VO  nr  eves-  and  I:ok  on  the  helds ;  for  thev  are 

X.  m  m  ‘  m 

yhite  alreadv  to  harvest.  And  he  that  reapeth  reeeiveth 
yiges-  and  gatheret'n  fmit  nnto  life  eternal :  that  both 
he  that  iiJTetA  and  he  that  r^tjepfztk  may  rejoice  together. 
Ann  herein  is  that  saving  tme.  One  soyech  and  another 
reapeth."  John  A 

The  FtAe  valley  yhich  runs  into  the  plain  here  is  the 
ancient  vale  of  Sheehem.  abont  500  vards  wide  at 
its  zreatest  yiith.  This  yas  Abraham's  first  halting 

...  V. 

place  when  he  came  from  Haran.  Here  Canaan  was 
first  promised  to  his  seed  bv  the  Lord,  and  here  **he 


bunded  an  altar."  Gen.  12  :  7.  Jacob  pitchevi  his  tent 
here  yhen  he  eame  from  Padan-aram-  and  he  bouirht  a 
parcel  of  a  field  where  he  had  spread  his  tent  (before  the 
ettr  .  This  “field"  doubtless  means  the  lariie  fruitful 

9 

Tallev  of  which  Sheehem  is  onlv  a  small  arm.  Gen. 

m  m 

So  :  lS-20.  In  t:  is  “field'"  before  the  citv,  Jacob  con- 
tinned  to  pasture  his  fiocks.  When  he  had  pitchevi  his 
tens  as  Hebron,  h‘s  sons  “  went  to  feevi  their  father"s 
fi'X*i  in  Sheehem."  and  he  sent  Joseph  to  see  whether  it 


356 


JESUS  AT  THE  WELL. 


was  well  with  them.  Gen.  37.  This  fruitful  dale  was 
Joseph’s  portion,  whose  present  productiveness  well  cor¬ 
responds  with  the  eloquent  description  Jacob  gave  it, 
when  bestowing  his  dying  blessing  upon  his  illustrious 
son.  ‘‘And  the  bones  of  Joseph,  which  the  children  of 
Israel  brought  up  out  of  Egypt,  buried  they  in  Shechem, 
in  a  parcel  of  ground  which  Jacob  bought  of  the  sons  of 
Hamor,  the  father  of  Shechem,  for  an  hundred  pieces  of 
silver.”  Joshua  24^:  32.  According  to  Acts  7  :  15—16, 
the  brethren  of  Joseph  (fathers)  were  likewise  brought 
from  Egypt  and  buried  here.  Ten  minutes  from  the  well 
a  little  white-washed  stone  mosque  marks  his  grave. 

The  most  interesting  incident  connected  with  this 
region  is  that  of  Jesus  at  the  well  with  the  Samaritan 
woman.  Walking  up  over  this  long  plain,  on  his  way 
from  Judea  to  Galilee,  through  the  hot  sun,  for  it  was 
mid-day,  “  being  wearied  with  his  journey,”  he  sat  on 
the  stone  border  which  rose  around  the  well,  waiting  until 
the  disciples  should  bring  meat  from  the  city.  He  was 
dry,  but  he  had  neither  cord  nor  vessel  to  draw  up  water. 
Just  then  a  Samaritan  woman  came  from  a  neighboring 
village  or  “  city  ”  to  fetch  water.  To  give  a  stranger  a 
drink  was  a  sacred  duty  which  only  the  most  unfeeling 
could  withhold.  When  Rebekah  gave  a  drink  to  Abra¬ 
ham’s  servant,  she  performed  but  an  ordinary  act  of 
kindness.  Gen.  24  :  18.  But  the  bitter  hatred  between 
the  Jews  and  Samaritans  had  reached  such  a  pitch,  that 
the  woman  was  surprised  to  be  asked  for  a  drink  by  one 
who  was  a  Jew.  The  Jews  looked  upon  a  “  Samaritan” 
as  incapable  of  a  good  act,  and  deserving  of  contempt; 
hence  they  had  no  dealings  with  the  Samaritans.  The 
old  spirit  of  hatred  and  jealousy  was  kept  in  a  constant 
flame  by  their  rival  altars  and  the  intermediate  position 


THE  ROUTE  THROUGH  SAMARIA.  357 

of  Samaria,  between  Judea  and  Galilee.  Every  Jew 
wishing  to  pass  from  Judea  to  Galilee,  or  the  reverse,  like 
the  Saviour,  ‘‘must  needs  go  through  Samaria,”  the 
despised  country,  or  cross  the  Jordan  and  go  up  by  way 
of  Jericho  to  Jerusalem.  This  latter  route  most  of  the 
Galileans  going  to  the  festivals  at  Jerusalem  took  in  our 
Saviour’s  time.  They  crossed  the  Jordan  on  the  north, 
came  down  on  the  other  side,  and  recrossed  opposite 
Jericho.  This  way  Jesus  came  on  his  last  journey  to  the 
Holy  City.  The  Jews  were  willing  to  endure  the  greater 
distance  of  this  route,  and  the  trouble  of  twice  fording 
the  river,  only  so  as  to  avoid  their  hated  and,  to  them, 
unclean  rivals. 

The  wells  of  Palestine  are  interesting  monuments  of 
sacred  antiquity.  Wrought  out  of  the  solid  limestone, 
they  become  permanent  monuments,  which  are  rarely 
obliterated.  They  are  the  only  surviving  links,  made 
with  hands,  which  connect  us  with  the  remote  patriarchal 
age.  This  well  is  ascribed  to  Jacob ;  it  was  so  in  our 
Saviour’s  day.  It  is  connected  with  the  earliest  and 
latest  events  in  sacred  history. 

About  a  mile  from  the  well  of  Jacob,  is  Nablous,  in 
the  vale  of  Shechem.  This  vale  is  formed  by  two  moun¬ 
tains,  Gerizim  and  Ebal,  which  rise  high  above  it,  here 
about  three-quarters  of  a  mile  in  width.  On  these  two 
mountains  the  curses  and  blessings  were  read  by  the 
Levites,  after  the  Hebrews  had  taken  possession  of  Ca¬ 
naan  :  “  Half  of  them  over  against  mount  Gerizim,  and 
half  of  them  over  against  mount  Ebal ;  as  Moses  the  ser¬ 
vant  of  the  Lord  had  commanded  before,  that  they  should 
bless  the  people.”  Deut.  27,  28;  Joshua  9  :  33.  Many 
large  olive  trees  are  scattered  over  the  grassy  vale.  In 
this  narrow  valley  was  the  Hebrew  multitude;  right  above 


358 


MOUNT  GERIZIM. 


/ 


them,  on  either  side,  were  the  Levites  reading  blessings 
and  curses  in  tones  of  ringing  and  reverberating  empha¬ 
sis.  A  place  precisely  suited  for  such  a  ceremony,  as 
Moses  doubtless  knew  when  he  selected  it.  The  vale  pro¬ 
duces  a  strange  echo.  What  a  scene  !  Above  stood  the 
Levites  saying  to  all  the  men  of  Israel  below,  with  a  loud 
voice ;  “  Cursed  be  he  that  setteth  light  by  his  father  and 
his  mother  ;  and  all  the  people  shall  say  Amen.”  A  ter¬ 
rific  Amen !  Every  curse  rolled  and  repeated  its  clap¬ 
ping  echoes  athwart  the  vale  !  “  Cursed  shalt  thou  be  in 
the  city,  and  cursed  in  the  field.  Cursed  shall  be  thy 
basket  and  thy  store,”  still  followed  by  the  tremendous 
Amen  from  the  densely  packed  mass  below.  It  was  an 
assembly  and  a  scene  such  as  the  world  has  never  wit¬ 
nessed  since  or  before.  Deut.  27. 

When  brave  old  Gideon  had  died,  Abimelech  his  son 
slew  all  his  brothers  except  Jotham,  the  youngest,  who 
hid  himself.  Then  he  got  him  on  this  Mount  Gerizim 
above  the  city,  and  told  his  grievances  in  the  only 
parable  we  find  in  the  Old  Testament.  The  olive,  fig, 
vine,  and  the  bramble,  still  abound  here.  Ere  the  inhabit¬ 
ants  of  Shechem  could  get  up  to  where  he  stood,  Jotham 
“  ran  away.”  Judges  9. 

At  the  end  of  it  we  found  Nablous,  perhaps  the  ancient 
Shechem,  a  white  city  embowered  among  a  profusion  of 
trees  ;  with  grass,  rills,  and  larger  streams  dashing,  rip¬ 
pling,  and  rolling  through  shaded  channels.  .  But  why 
should  Jacob  dig  a  well  so  near  this  nrofusion  of  springs  ? 
These  may  then  have  belonged  to  another  tribe  ;  and  to 
avoid  strife  he  dug  one,  for  he  had  brought  large  flocks 
from  his  father-in-law,  which  required  much  water. 

We  rode  through  the  main  street  of  bazaars,  about 
three  or  four  feet  wide,  with  narrow,  raised  side-walks. 


NABLO  US. 


359 


The  town  is  more  neatly  arranged,  and  shows  signs  of 
greater  thrift  than  Jerusalem.  It  stretches  along  the 
sloping  base  of  Mount  Gerizim,  while  opposite  to  it  the 
bleak  Mount  Ebal  rears  its  dreary  head,  reminding  one 
still  of  the  curses  once  pronounced  upon  it.  We  en¬ 
camped  on  an  elevation  north-west  of  the  town,  amid 
the  shade  of  olive  trees.  A  swarm  of  men,  women,  and 
children  soon  collected  around  our  tents,  with  the  usual 
amount  of  noise.  The  Sheikh  of  the  Samaritans  led  us 
to  the  Samaritan  synagogue.  We  found  it  toward  the 
base  of  Gerizim,  in  the  rear  of  the  town.  It  is  a  small, 
plain  edifice,  whose  only  furniture  consists  of  a  few  mats 
on  the  floor.  We  were  requested  to  leave  our  shoes  at 
the  door — a  custom  invariably  observed  in  the  East,  when 
entering  a  place  of  worship.  They  showed  us  their  an¬ 
cient  manuscript,  containing  the  five  books  of  Moses.  It 
is  written  on  a  scroll,  rolled  up  in  a  metallic  frame.  They 
say  it  was  written  by  Abishua  the  grandson  of  Eliezer, 
the  son  of  Aaron,  and  that  it  is  3460  years  old.  Their 
sect  numbers  70  men,  about  170  with  women  and  children. 

The  head  or  priest  of  this  fragment  of  a  nation  says 
that  their  copy  of  the  five  books  of  Moses  differs  from 
that  of  the  Jewish  and  Christian  Scriptures.  Among 
other  things,  he  says  they  contain  a  commandment  that 
an  altar  should  be  erected  on  Gerizim,  but  that  Ezra 
altered  this  when  he  rebuilt  the  walls  of  Jerusalem.  The 
Samaritans  do  not  call  themselves  Jews  since  they  derive 
their  descent  from  Joseph  the  son  of  Jacob,  instead  of 
Juda.  They  maintain  that  the  name  “Samaritans” 
(Shomri)  means  “observers  of  the  Divine  Law,”  and 
say  that  party-hate  has  made  the  world  believe  that 
it  is  derived  from  Shomron,  the  seal  of  the  Kings  of 
Israel. 


360 


SAMARITAN  CUSTOMS. 


These  are  the  only  remaining  Samaritans  in  the  world  ; 
the  little  relic  of  a  once  great  and  numerous  nation. 
They  are  as  tenacious  of  their  faith  and  rites  as  if  they 
still  retained  their  ancient  power.  While  the  Jews  are 
dispersed  among  all  nations,  these  two  hundred  Samari¬ 
tans  retain  their  ancient  organization  near  their  original 
place  of  worship,  the  smallest  and  oldest  sect  in  the 
world.  The  little  group  which  followed  us  into  the  syna¬ 
gogue  had  noble  physiognomies,  and  a  peculiarly  pleasant 
expression  of  countenance.  They  are  very  strict  in  their 
ceremonies  and  practices  of  religion.  Like  the  Jews, 
they  keep  Saturday  for  the  Sabbath,  when  they  have 
public  prayers  in  their  synagogue  at  morning,  noon,  and 
evening.  On  Friday  evening  they  pray  in  their  houses. 
They  allow  no  labor  or  traffic  on  this  day,  not  even  cook¬ 
ing  or  kindling  a  fire,  but  rest  from  every  kind  of  em¬ 
ployment  the  whole  day.  They  also  meet  and  worship 
in  the  synagogue  on  new  moons  and  festival  days,  when 
the  Law  is  read  in  public. 

Up  along  the  side  of  Mount  Gerizim  is  a  winding  path 
which  they  have  worn  going  to  their  altar  on  the  top  to 
offer  sacrifice.  As  the  Jews  pray  with  their  faces  to¬ 
ward  Jerusalem,  and  the  Moslems  toward  Mecca,  the 
Samaritan  always  prays  in  the  synagogue  and  house, 
with  his  face  toward  the  altar  on  Gerizim.  They  observe 
the  three  Jewish  feasts  :  the  Feast  of  Passover,  when  they 
pitch  their  tents  on  the  mountain  all  night,  and  sacrifice 
seven  lambs  at  sunset ;  the  Feast  of  Pentecost,  and  the 
Feast  of  Tabernacles,  during  which  they  dwell  in  booths 
or  tents  made  of  branches  and  leaves  of  trees.  They  make 
three  annual  pilgrimages  to  this  venerable  shrine.  As 
the  procession  starts  from  the  synagogue,  they  begin 
reading  the  law  going  up  the  mountain  side,  and  finish  it 


PROWLING  ARABS. 


361 


on  the  top.  They  cherish  the  bitterest  hatred  of  the 
Jews,  and  charge  them  with  departing  from  the  Law  in 
not  keeping  the  Passover,  and  corrupting  the  sacred  text. 
Xo  one  eats,  drinks,  or  associates  with  a  Jew,  neither 
do  they  intermarry.  The  only  dealings  they  have  with 
each  other  is  in  trade. 

After  we  had  returned  to  our  tents,  the  Sheikh  of  the 
Samaritans  told  us  that  there  was  still  a  deep  shaft  at 
Jacob’s  well,  which  we  had  not  found  before.  I  mounted 
mv  horse,  with  an  unloaded  revolver  to  make  the  neces- 
sary  show  of  courage,  and  rode  back  to  it.  Tethering 
the  beast  to  a  loose  stone,  I  descended  into  the  vault  in 
search  of  the  well.  The  heaps  of  stone,  however,  con¬ 
cealed  it.  Just  then  I  bethought-me  of  the  Arabs  I  had 
seen  approaching  the  well  before  descending.  These 
men  of  Shechem  are  notorious  robbers,  having,  until  late 
years,  kept  all  travellers  away  from  their  valley.  I^r. 
Prime  of  Xew  York  relates  a  shocking  assault  they  made 
on  his  party  when  here,  almost  killing  one  of  them.  I 
felt  a  deep  interest  in  this  well,  but  deeper  still  in  my 
safetv.  Lookinor  at  the  little  hole  through  which  I  had 
crept  down,  I  thought  how  easily*  they  might  roll  a  few 
stones  there  and  cork  me  into  this  sacred  prison.  I  was 
not  prepared  for  such  a  siege.  Alas  !  it  is  always  so ; 
when  we  stand  most  in  need  of  our  courage,  it  forsakes 
us.  I  left  the  well  with  the  water  and  shaft  unexplored, 
and  rode  away  from  my  suspicious  neighbors,  taking  good 
care  to  show  the  empty  revolver. 

As  evening  approached  the  chattering  crowd  of  females 
and  children  around  our  tents  increased.  Some  of  the 
former  were  dressed  in  gay  attire  -without  veils.  They 
seemed  much  diverted  with  Mohammed’s  cooking.  While 
we  had  to  attend  to  our  usual  mending  duties,  some  stole 
31 


362 


A  MO  II  A  SI  MEDAN  PIiaRlM. 


a  peep  tlirough  the  curtain  door,  to  the  great  amusement 
of  others.  The  Governor  of  Nablous  sent  us  an  invitation 
to  visit  him  and  partake  of  his  hospitalities.  But  as 
such  entertainments  generally  are  more  pleasant  in  ‘‘the 
breach  than  the  observance”  we  respectfully  declined; 
asking,  however,  for  several  soldiers  to  guard  us  while  we 
slept.  Three  of  these  valiants  shielded  us  from  robbers, 

'  real  and  imaginary,  and  kept  up  a  firing  of  guns  through 
the  night,  to  give. proof  of  their  valor.  That  evening 
and  the  following  morning,  fifteen  lepers,  shockingly  dis¬ 
figured,  stood  and  crouched  along  the  wayside  above  our 
tents,  and  whined  pitifully  for  a  gift.  There  is  no  help 
but  death  for  these  unfortunate  beings. 

April  2,2d. — When  we  started  this  morning,  a  small 
procession  escorted  a  prominent  citizen  on  horseback  to 
the  outside  of  the  city.  He  was  setting  out  on  a  pil¬ 
grimage  to  Mecca,  which  every  faithful  Mohammedan 
feels  bound  to  visit  once  in  his  lifetime,  if  possible.  A 
short  distance  beyond  our  encampment  he  dismounted 
and  took  solemn,  leave  of  his  friends  and  neighbors,  em¬ 
bracing  and  kissing  each  of  them.  His  little  ruddy 
bright-eyed  boy  caught  him  round  the  neck  and  wept 
bitterly.  The  Moslem  seldom  weeps,  but  he  slyly  wiped 
away  the  unbidden  tear  as  he  tore  away  from  the  em¬ 
braces  of  his  child.  Many  a  poor  Moslem  will  spend  the 
flower  of  his  life  to  acquire  means  that  he  and  his  family 
may  bow  at  the  shrine  of  Mecca  before  they  die.  By 
taking  his  children  with  him  when  they  are  small,  he 
saves  them  the  trouble  and  expense  of  performing  this 
devout  duty  in  after  life.  Ahmed  told  me  that  one  great 
motive  he  had  to  acquire  a  fortune  was  that  he  and  his 
family  might  make  a  pilgrimage  to  Mecca  before  they  die. 
We  took  a  number  of  mounted  guards  along  to  protect  us 


S  E  B  A  S  T  E  . 


363 


against  the  Bedouins,  who  have  a  bad  name  here.  Cross¬ 
ing  a  considerable  brook  flowing  north  of  Nablous,  we 
rode  through  shady  groves  of  olives,  pomegranates,  and 
figs.  The  singing  birds,  murmuring  brooks,  and  the 
fresh  odor  of  grass,  wet  with  the  crystal  drops  of  the 
morning,  contrasted  pleasantly  with  the  two  desolate 
mountains  which  rose  from  800  to  1000  feet  above 
us,  and  combined  to  form  one  of  the  most  charming  gar¬ 
den  spots  I  found  anywhere  in  Palestine.  We  emerged 
from  these  groves  into  a  fruitful  district,  in  a  tolerable 
state  of  cultivation.  Some  Arabs  were  preparing  the 
ground  for  summer  seed,  ploughing  up,  as  well  as  their 
skimming  ploughs  could,  the  roads  or  paths  running 
through  their  fields. 

After  riding  an  hour  and  three-quarters  over  rough 
hills,  with  here  and  there  a  green  glen  near  a  village,  we 
at  length  reach  Sebaste,  the  ancient  city  of  Samaria, 
about  six  miles  from  Nablous  or  Shechem.  From  a  large 
plain,  green  and  fresh-colored,  like  a  vast  basin  of  vege¬ 
tation  scooped  out  of  the  surrounding  mountains,  rises  an 
oval  isolated  hill,  about  600  feet  high.  Its  sides,  some- 
w’hat  steep,  were  covered  with  full-grown  wheat,  up  to  its 
long  flat  top.  It  rose  out  of  the  vale  so  perfectly  sym¬ 
metrical  and  snug,  as  if  the  hand  of  man  had  sodded  and 
levelled  its  sloping  sides.  This  is  the  “hill  Samaria 
which  Omri  bought  of  Shemer  for  two  talents  of  silver, 
and  built  on  the  hill,  and  called  the  name  of  the  city 
which  he  built,  after  the  name  of  Shemer,  owner  of  the 
hill,  Samaria.”  1  Kings  16  :  24. 

Midway  of  the  ascent,  a  level  terrace  or  belt  stretches 
around  the  hill,  on  which  we  found  a  small  Arab  village, 
and  the  ruins  of  a  church  dedicated  to  John  the  Baptist, 
over  his  traditional  grave.  The  building  is  153  feet  long, 


364 


A  FINE  LANDSCAPE. 


and  75  feet  broad.  Ascending  along  the  steep  path,  we 
dismounted  on  a  b’road  terrace  near  the  summit,  and 
climbed  up  the  bank  on  the  topmost  platform,  perhaps 
five  acres  in  size.  The  bad  reputation  of  the  villagers 
made  it  necessary  to  display  our  carnal  weapons  as  much 
as  possible.  In  this  country  necessity  is  laid  on  a  man 
at  least  to  appear  warlike,  whether  he  feel  like  it  or  not. 
Sometimes  I  rode  with  two  five-barrelled  revolvers  in  a 
broad  red  girdle,  neither  of  them  loaded,  but  just  as  ser¬ 
viceable  for  all  that. 

The  hill  was  cultivated  to  the  top,  and  had  thriving  fig 
and  olive  trees  on  its  belt  and  around  the  base.  Along 
the  northern  edge  a  brisk  little  stream  flowed  out  into  the 
plain,  and  a  large  one  to  the  south  of  it.  The  view  from 
the  top  extends  over  the  whole  basin,  about  six  or  eight 
miles  wide.  Among  the  waving  lakes  of  wheat  heads, 
many  Arabs  were  seen  ploughing,  sowing,  and  weeding 
their  grain.  Many  villages  dotted  the  plain  and  moun¬ 
tains  which  border  it,  all  green  with  rich  pasturage.  The 
fields,  flocks,  workmen,  mountains,  and  villages,  all 
spread  out  to  view  like  a  charming  variegated  panorama. 

On  this  hill  was  the  ancient  city  of  Samaria,  strongly 
fortified,  so  that  the  king  of  Assyria  had  to  besiege  it 
three  years  before  he  could  take  it.  2  Kings  18.  The 
lofty  mountains  which  girt  the  plain  helped  to  defend  the 
city  on  the  hill  rising  out  of  its  centre.  And  the  strong 
lofty  battlements  around  the  base  of  it  must  have  pre¬ 
sented  formidable  barriers  to  their  foes.  Their  only  plan 
was  to  cut  off  all  communication  with  the  fruitful  plain 
around  it,  and  starve  them  out.  Thus  Ben-hadad,  King 
of  Syria,  ‘‘  besieged  it  until  an  ass’s  head  -was  sold  for 
fourscore  pieces  of  silver,  and  the  fourth  part  of  a  cab 
of  dove’s  dung  for  five  pieces  of  silver.”  While  they 


FORMER  STRENGTH  OF  SAMARIA.  365 

looked  out  on  their  rich  fields,  the  famine  pressed  them  so 
sorely  that  women  ate  their  children  to  allay  their  suffer¬ 
ing.  2  Kings  6  :  29.  In  whatever  direction  the  famishing 
Samaritans  looked,  they  must  have  seen  their  enemies 
spread  over  the  plain  and  mountains  —  thirty-two  kings, 
with  chariots  and  horses,  and  a  multitude  almost  innu¬ 
merable.  Not  a  man  could  pass  through  the  vast  encamp¬ 
ment,  either  from  mountain  or  valley,  to  bring  food  to  the 
beleaguered  city.  As  the  mountains  around  the  plain  are 
higher  than  the  hill  of  Samaria,  the  Syrians  on  their  tops 
must  have  been  able  to  watch  the  misery  of  the  famishing 
inhabitants  in  the  city.  The  sudden  plenty  which  ensued 
at  the  termination  of  the  siege  is  easily  accounted  for  by 
the  fruitful  plain  immediately  around  the  city,  and  the 
provisions  which  the  Syrians  left  back  in  their  flight. 

The  strongly  fortified  hill  city  gave  the  Syrians  so 
much  trouble  and  labor,  that  they  said  of  the  Samaritans  : 
“Their  gods  are  gods  of  the  hills;  therefore  they  were 
stronger  than  we ;  but  let  us  fight  against  them  in  the 
plain,  and  surely  we  shall  be  stronger  than  they.” 
1  Kings  20  :  23.  In  point  of  strength,  beauty,  and  fer¬ 
tility,  Samaria  was  unsurpassed  by  any  city  in  Palestine. 
Instead  of  the  rough,  precipitous  mountains  and  ravines 
around  Jerusalem,  where  Juda  and  Benjamin  had  to  earn 
their  bread  with  immense  labor,  making  walls  around 
their  rock-hills  to  keep  the  earth  and  grain  from  washing 
down,  Samaria  had  her  large,  rich  plain,  alive  with  a 
spontaneous  vegetation,  and  rewarding  the  trifling  labor 
of  the  farmer  with  abundant  crops.  The  winter  torrents 
washed  no  soil  from  their  plain,  and  they  needed  no 
extra  labor  to  wall  up  their  fields  and  keep  them  from 
sliding  down  the  mountains.  But  this  easy  life  proved  a 
curse  to  the  Samaritans.  It  engendered  indolence  and 
31  * 


366 


TEMPLE  OF  BAAL. 


luxury,  until  their  table  became  their  snare.  They  had  a 
constant  hankering  after  idols.  It  "vras  a  stronghold  of 
the  old  Canaanite  idolatries.  They  had  two  gods  — ■ 
Baal,  a  male,  represented  by  the  sun  ;  and  Ashtaroth,  a 
female,  represented  by  the  moon.  Here  the  great  temple 
of  Baal  was  erected,  most  probably  on  the  summit,  which 
Jehu  destroyed,  who  himself  was  finally  buried  here.  It 
had  become  the  centre  of  idolatrous  worship,  luring  many 
to  trust  in  it,  and  'to  look  toward  this  hill  rather  than 
Zion.  “  Wo  to  them  that  are  at  ease  in  Zion,  and  trust 
in  the  mountain  of  Samaria.”  Amos  6:1. 

Descending  the  hill  we  came  to  a  colonnade,  supposed 
to  belong  to  the  time  of  Herod  the  Great.  Some  sixty 
limestone  columns  stand  planted  erect  in  the  earth,  and 
many  others  are  promiscuously  lying  on  the  ground. 
What  edifice  they  composed,  and  for  what  purpose,  are 
things  unknown.  Their  present  use  is  silently  to  preach 
of  the  departed  glory  of  Samaria.  Grass  and  grain  wave 
over  its  proud  palaces,  and  the  dust  of  her  idolatrous  in¬ 
habitants  enriches  the  soil  of  her  terraced  hill.  Frag¬ 
ments  of  her  palaces  are  occasionally  scraped  up  by  the 
plowman,  and  loose  stones  and  ruins  of  her  walls  and 
dwellings  are  scattered  around  the  base  of  the  hill. 
Just  as  Micah  has  it,  to  the  very  letter:  ‘‘Therefore  I 
will  make  Samaria  as  an  heap  of  the  field,  and  as  plant¬ 
ings  of  a  vineyard :  and  I  will  pour  down  the  stones 
thereof  into  the  valley^  and  I  will  discover  the  foundations 
thereof.”  Micah  1 :  6. 

Samaria  was  the  capital  of  the  “Ten  Tribes”  until 
they  were  carried  captive  into  Assyria.  Most  probably 
many  of  the  columns  and  other  remains  of  Herod’s  pal¬ 
aces  strewn  over  the  hill,  were  taken  from  ruins  then  ex¬ 
isting  ;  possibly  some  have  even  belonged  to  the  regal 


NAAMAN  AND  GEHAZI. 


36T 


dwellings  of  Ahab  and  his  wicked  Queen  Jezebel.  The 
city  has  been  waning  for  2500  years,  alternating  between 
luxury  and  famine,  the  scene  and  centre  of  idolatry  and 
bloodshed,  now  razed  to  the  earth  and  then  rebuilt,  until 
it  has  subsided  into  the  miserable  robber  hamlet  on  the 
slope  of  its  hill,  ever  on  the  alert  for  a  booty.  / 

Hither  came  l!^^aaman,  the  Syrian,  from  Damascus,  to 
be  healed  of  his  leprosy.  Our  Saviour  says:  “There 
•were  many  lepers  in  Israel  [Samaria]  in  the  time  of 
Elisha  the  Prophet,  and  none  of  them  were  cleansed 
saving  Naaman  the  Syrian.”  Luke  4  :  27.  Such  are 
still  there.  The  cupidity  of  Gehazi  was  punished  wuth 
this  dreadful  disease,  which  was  to  cleave  unto  his  seed 
forever.  These  loathsome  lepers  are  monuments  of  his 
sin,  and  some  perhaps  even  the  heirs  of  his  penal  disease. 

After  leaving  Samaria  we  passed  some  men  with  don¬ 
keys,  having  one  or  both  ears  cut  off,  for  which  our 
guides  accounted  in  this  wise :  When  an  ass  trespasses  in 
a  neighboring  field,  the  owner  of  the  field  is  allowed  to 
cut  off  his  ear.  Should  he  repeat  the  offence,  his  other 
ear  must  go  for  it.  Some  of  these  poor  donkeys  had 
sinned  twice,  which  cost  them  both  ears.  In  tliis  respect 
these  modern  Canaanites  are  in  advance  of  the  Mosaic 
law  on  this  point.  “  If  thou  meet  thine  enemy’s  ox  oi 
ass  coing  astray,  thou  shalt  surely  bring  it  back  to  him 
again.”  Ex.  23  :  4. 

Our  path  led  us  over  hill  and  dell ;  now  the  horses’ 
lioofs  would  clatter  over  bald  rocks  and  earthless  knobs, 
then  trip  over  plains  spread  with  wheat  and  barley.  And 
while  these  were  fast  ripening,  Arabs  were  ploughing 
and  sowing  for  a  later  crop.  Crossing  one  of  these 
fertile  valleys,  one  of  our  Turkish  guards  challenged  for 
a  race,  and  with  that  gave  reins  to  his  steed.  A  few 


368 


AN  EXCITING  RACE. 


followed,  mine  among  the  rest.  After  he  had  distanced 
the  rest,  I  concluded  it  was  time  to  stop,  hut  he  thought 
differently.  Away  he  dashed  over  the  plain,  which 
seemed  to  spurn  the  touch  of  his  hoof,  bearing  off  his 
unwilling  rider  like  a  second  John  Gilpin,  his  coarse 
carpet  bag  and  burnouse  flapping  in  the  breeze  like  the 
wings  of  an  ostrich.  With  distended  nostrils  pointed 
skyward,  he  defiantly  snuffed  the  air  like  a  miniature 
locomotive,  his  long  mane  waving  wildly  in  the  breeze. 
On  still  he  bounded  like  an  antelope,  whither  he  listed. 
When  I  succeeded  in  stopping  his  wild  career  and  reined 
him  up,  he  champed  the  bit,  pawed  the  earth,  and  grace- 
fully  curved  his  arched  neck  as  if  consciously  proud  of 
his  beauty.  He  was  a  noble  specimen  of  an  Arab  horse, 
a  polished  dappled  grey,  with  every  joint  and  limb  in¬ 
stinct  with  ease  and  life.  These  Arab  horses  are  a  hardy 
race,  nimble-footed  as  a  roe ;  and  when  their  mettle  is 
aroused  in  w’ar,  they  seem  to  catch  the  defiant  rage  of 
their  rider.  Often  when  looking  at  their  pranks,  I  had 
to  think  of  Job’s  description  of  the  Arab  horse : 

“Hast  thou  given  the  horse  strength? 

Hast  thou  clothed  his  neck  with  thunder? 

Canst  thou  make  him  afraid  as  a  grasshopper? 

The  glory  of  his  nostrils  is  terrible. 

He  paweth  in  the  valley,  and  rejoiceth  in  his  strength ; 

He  goeth  on  to  meet  the  armed  men. 

He  mocketh  at  fear  and  is  not  affrighted  ; 

Neither  turneth  he  back  from  tlte  sword. 

The  quiver  rattleth  against  him, 

The  glittering  spear  and  the  shield. 

He  swalloweth  the  ground  with  fierceness  and  rage  ; 

Neither  believeth  he  that  it  is  the  sound  of  the  trumpet. 

He  saith  among  the  trumpets,  Ha,  ha ; 

And  he  smelleth  the  battle  afar  off. 

The  thunder  of  the  captains  and  the  shouting.^' 

Job  39  ;  19-25. 


THE  ARABIAN  HORSE. 


369 


The  Arab  and  his  horse  live  on  terms  of  the  closest 
intimacy :  if  anything,  the  horse  seems  the  more  refined 
of  the  two,  and  receives  the  greater  honor.  He  is  never 
degraded  by  the  touch  of  collar  or  traces.  He  is  solely 
trained  for  the  saddle.  His  limbs  are  unimpaired  by 
heavy  draughts.  In  some  parts  of  Palestine  and  the 
Desert,  an  ordinary  horse  sinks  over  the  fetlock 
into  the  sand  and  ashy  earth  at  every  step ;  but  the 
Arabian  horse  trips  nimbly  over  the  soft  surface,  as  if 
the  earth  shrank  from  his  touch.  He  is  fit  for  service 
until  he  is  thirty-five  years  of  age.  Nowhere  can  you 
find  more  skilful  horse  tamers  than  the  Arabs.  The 
horse  and  his  rider  have'nearly  the  same  social  habits. 
For  the  first  few  months,  women  have  the  care  of  the 
foal.  At  a  year  and  a  half,  the  little  Arabs  mount  him. 
The  weight  of  the  rider  must  always  correspond  to  the 
strength  of  the  horse.  At  two  years  and  a  half,  a  grown 
man  mounts  him.  For  a  long  time  he  never  goes  beyond 
a  walk.  His  bit  is  exceedingly  light.  His  rider  has  no 
spurs ;  a  mere  twig  which  he  tries  never  to  use.  He  is 
never  at  rest.  He  must  often  fetch  feed  and  drink  for 
him  at  a  great  distance.  He  lives  on  spare  diet  like  his 
master,  which  disencumbers  his  limbs  and  body  of  super¬ 
fluous  flesh.  Often,  horse  and  rider  grow  up  together. 
At  eighteen  months  old,  me  little  boy  rides  the  foal  to 
grass  and  water  with  a  soft  mule  bridle.  From  this  on, 
they  live  and  mingle  together  in  the  most  intimate  com¬ 
panionship.  Their  age  and  habits  are  well  suited.  The 
horse  grows  gentle,  and  the  child  learns  how  to  ride  him. 
This  accounts  for  the  Arab’s  great  skill  in  horsemanship. 
With  or  without  a  saddle,  he  wheels  and  whirls  around 
in  sudden  turns  and  countless  evolutions,  his  long  spear 
poised  in  the  air,  and  his  loose  apparel  streaming  in  the 

Y 


370 


THE  ARAB’S  FRIEND. 


wind,  with  an  easy  fixedness  and  grace  as  if  he  and  the 
horse  were  really  but  parts  of  the  same  body.  He  dis¬ 
mounts  and  perhaps  leaves  him  untethered  without  any 
abuse  of  the  confidence  reposed  in  him.  They  lavish 
mutual  caresses  and  familiar  fondlings  on  each  other, 
taking  all  sorts  of  liberties  with  one  another.  While  the 
Arab  adorns  his  bridle  and  pats  and  softly  rubs  his 
limbs,  the  horse  playfully  picks  at  his  coarse  garments 
and  snuffles  about  his  beard.  He  talks  to  him  as  he 
does  to  his  wife  'or  child,  and  the  animal  listens  and 
obeys  with  almost  human  intelligence.  Fond  as  the 
Arab  is  of  money,  it  can  poorly  compensate  for  the  pain 
occasioned  by  parting  from  his'  affectionate  friend.  And 
should  a  large  sum  lure  him  into  a  sale,  or  death  take 
his  horse  from  him,  neither  the  loss  of  wife  or  child  fills 
him  with  keener  sorrow.  Should  there  be  poetry  in  his 
soul,  he  will  sing  the  virtues  of  his  departed  steed,  and 
vent  his  grief  in  pathetic  wailings  over  the  fate  that  has 
bereft  him  of  the  society  of  such  a  companion. 

In  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  we  entered  Galilee. 
Riding  over  this  wonderful  country,  a  hundred  little 
objects  furnish  daily  subjects  of  thought  and  instruction. 
And  the  scenery  evermore  varies.  Now  our  cavalcade 
wearily  winds  up  a  steep,  rocky  hillside.  We  listen  to 
the  muleteers  gibbering  in  Turkish,  their  faithful  mules 
and  horses  threading  up  along  the  narrow  path  in  single 
file,  with  little  bells  hung  around  their  necks,  meanwhile 
sweetly  jingling  at  every  heavy  and  laborious  tread. 
All  of  a  sudden  we  get  on  to  a  grassy  glen,  with  fields, 
flocks,  fountains,  and  clumps  of  olive  or  oak  trees.  Oc¬ 
casionally  we  pass  a  well  or  village,  where  there  are 
always  sprightly  groups  to  greet  us  with  a  “  Salaam.’* 
To-d:iy,  large  storks  flew  fitfully  over  these  glens,  and 


JENIN. 


871 


stalked  in  long  columns  along  the  water’s  edge,  in  quest 
of  food.  We  rode  through  a  narrow  valley,  in  between 
two  ranges  of  hills,  for  a  number  of  miles,  and  finally 
reached  Jenin,  at  the  end  of  the  plain  of  Jezreel,  in  five 
hours  after  we  had  left  Samaria.  A  swarm  of  pilgrims, 
on  their  return  from  Jerusalem,  at  least  600  or  700  in 
number,  had  already  encamped  along  the  edge  of  the 
village.  In  the  flush  of  our  enjoyments,  we  rode  aw'ay 
from  our  muleteers  and  baggage.  Feeling  alarmed  for 
their  safety,  we  finally  sent  our  soldiers  or  Turkish 
escort  after  them,  with  whom  they  safely  arrived  two 
hours  after  '^ve  had  reached  Jenin. 

Jenin  is  the  En-gannim  which  Joshua  gave  to  Issachar. 
‘‘And  out  of  the  tribe  of  Issachar,  .  .  .  Engannim,  with 
her  suburbs.”  Joshua  19  :  21 ;  21  :  29.  It  has  always 
owed  much  of  its  prosperity  to  a  flourishing  fountain  in 

the  centre  of  its  narrow  valley,  which,  during  summer 

% 

and  autumn  is  entirely  absorbed  by  its  fields  and  thriving 
orchards.  This  fountain  is  the  most  distant  source  of 
the  Kishon.  It  is  now  the  chief  town  between  Nazareth 
and  Nablous  (Shechem),  and  contains  about  two  thousand 
inhabitants,  nearly  all  Mohammedans.  They  are  famous 
chiefly  for  their  quarrelsome,  warlike,  and  plundering 
propensities.  We  erected  our  tents  near  a  purling  brook, 
running  between  us  and  the  village.  It  is  a  miserable, 
filthy-looking  collection  of  mud  huts,  intersected  by  nar¬ 
row  streets.  A  few  palm-trees  gracefully  waved  their 
plume-like  tops  in  the  soft  evening  breeze.  The  flat 
house-tops  were  green  with  grass ;  and  out  of  this  medley 
of  dirt  and  pure  grass  rose  the  tall  minaret  of  the  village- 
mosque,  from  which  the  muezzin  [herald]  saluted  us, 
soon  after  our  arrival,  with  the  usual  cry :  “  To  prayers, 


372 


A  CAMP-SCENE. 


to  prayers ;  there  is  no  God  but  God,  and  Mohammed  is 
his  Prophet.” 

We  consented  to  employ  guards  from  the  Governor  of 
Jenin  to  protect  us  during  the  night ;  the  hire  which 
they  received  being  a  kind  of  bribe  that  the  town  autho¬ 
rities  should  not  rob  us.  For  the  worst  robbers  are  often 
these  soldiers  themselves.  It  was  a  very  dark  night,  and 
the  large  pilgrim  encampment  all  around  us  composed  a 
singular  scene.  Lights  flickered  in  all  directions,  and 
luminous  smoke  curled  up  from  camp-flres,  reflecting  a 
red  glare  on  the  tents,  and  half  revealing  the  chatting, 
eating,  sleeping  pilgrims.  Some  were  cooking ;  others, 
rolled  up  in  their  blankets  on  the  damp  earth,  heaved 
deep  breaths,  and  uttered  half-audible  dreams.  Here 
and  there  a  circle  of  smokers  sat  around  their  watch- 
fires,  talking  with  a  suppressed  tone  of  voice.  Some 
of  the  younger  sort  and  their  guards  scouted  along  the 
edge  of  the  encampment,  cracking  off  guns  and  pistols, 
to  apprise  the  prowling  robbers  what  stuff  they  were 
made  of.  The  mules,  horses,  and  donkeys  tinkled  their 
little  bells,  as  they  were  eating  their  meals  in  bags  tied 
around  their  mouths.  After  musing  on  this  novel  night- 
scene,  we  retired  to  our  tent ;  and,  with  knaves  for  our 
protectors,  rested  sweetly,  under  the  “shadow  of  the 
Almighty.” 


STOLEN  HORSES. 


373 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


nr  tjir  falhg  nf  Sr^red 


April  2Sd. — Yesterday  afternoon  we  crossed  the 
boundary  of  Galilee.  This  morning  there  was  quite  a 
commotion  among  the  pilgrims,  who  discovered  that  three 
of  their  horses  had  been  stolen  last  night.  ^The  Governor 
of  Jenin  sent  us  word  that  we  could  not  be  allowed  to  go 
any  further,  without  the  protection  of  an  armed  escort ; 
and  with  that  came  eight  guards,  mounted  on  prancing 
chargers,  with  an  air  of  martial  courage  which  seemed 
ready  to  give  life  and  limb,  if  need  he,  for  our  safety. 
Of  course,  we  knew  that  the  worthy  Governor  only 
wanted  hire  for  his  men ;  and,  lest  they  might  rob  us 
themselves,  we  took  them. 

It  was  a  charming,  dewy  morning ;  the  air  breathed 
refreshing  odors,  and  was  vocal  with  the  warblings  of  all 
manner  of  birds.  The  sun  had  scarcely  risen,  when  the 
peasants  of  Jenin  wended  their  way  along  various  paths, 
to  get  them  to  their  labor  in  the  fields.  Numerous  sky¬ 
larks,  of  a  dark-grey  color  and  of  the  size  of  a  small 
robin,  sang  merrily,  as  they  flapped  upward,  —  singing 
sweeter  still,  as  they  pierced  the  heavens  ;  and,  when  no 
more  seen,  still  piped  their  clear,  upward  melody.  Mrs. 
Ilemans  describes  their  ascent  to  the  life : 

32 


374 


GOD*S  CARE  FOR  BIRDS. 


'•  The  sky-lark,  when  the  dews  of  morn 
Hang  tremulous  on  flower  and  thorn, 

And  violets  round  his  nest  exhale 
Their  fragrance  on  the  early  gale, 

To  the  first  sunbeams  spreads  his  wings 
Buoyant  with  joy,  and  soars,  and  sings. 

“  He  rests  not  on  the  leafy  spray. 

To  warble  his  exulting  lay,  , 

But  high  above  the  morning  cloud. 

Mounts  in  triumphant  freedom  proud. 

And  swells,  when  nearest  to  the  sky. 

His  notes  of  sweetest  ecstacy. 

“  Thus,  my  Creator !  thus  the  more 
My  spirit’s  wing  to  Thee  can  soar, 

The  more  she  triumphs  to  behold 
Thy  love  in  all  Thy  works  unfold. 

And  bids  her  hymns  of  rapture  be 
Most  glad,  when  rising  most  to  Thee.” 

Often  the  Saviour  looked  at  these  birds  in  his  own  Gali¬ 
lee,  and  drew  lessons,  sad  and  cheering,  from  their  habits. 
In  His  voluntary  human  poverty  He  felt  how  much  bet¬ 
ter  they  were  off  than  He  in  his  life  of  suflfering.  The 
birds  of  the  air  have  nests ;  but  the  son  of  man  hath  not 
where  to  lay  his  head.”  Matt.  8  :  20.  He  saw  how  the 
fretting  fears  and  discontents  of  the  children  of  men 
betrayed  a  want  of  confidence  in  their  Providential  Father. 
Then  He  points  to  these  irrational  objects  of  His  tender 
care.  Behold  the  fowls  of  the  air  :  for  they  sow  not, 
neither  do  they  reap,  nor.  gather  into  barns  ;  yet  your 
heavenly  Father  feedeth  them.  Are  ye  not  much  better 
than  they?  ”  Matt.  6  :  26. 

For  a  while  after  we  left  Jenin,  the  fertile  plain  looked 
like  one  continuous  wheat-field,  for  this  is  the  famous  Val¬ 
ley  of  Jezreel.  To  the  right  the  mountains  of  Gilboa 


DEATH  OF  JORAM. 


375 


rose  high  above  the  valley.  On  an  elevation,  several 
miles  from  our  path,  we  passed  the  city  of  Jezreel,  with  its 
ancient  fountain,  now  containing  twenty  or  thirty  houses, 
mostly  in  mins,  hut  few  of  them  being  inhabited.  A  few 
sarcophagi  mark  the  graves  of  ancient  Jezreelites.  As 
water  was  necessary  for  ‘^a  garden  of  herbs,”  and  this 
being  the  only  perennial  fountain  in  the  neighborhood, 
perhaps  the  vineyard  which  Ahab  violently  took  from 
Naboth,  was  near  it,  for  it  was  “  hard  by  the  palace  of 
Ahab,  King  of  Samaria.”  1  Kings  21  :  1. 

On  the  elevated  site  of  Jezreel  is  an  ancient  square 
tower,  half  in  ruins,  of  considerable  height,  which  com¬ 
mands  a  view  of  the  whole  plain  and  surrounding  coun¬ 
try.  On  this,  or  one  like  it,  near  the  spot,  stood  a 
watchman  on  the  tower  in  Jezreel,  and  he  spied  the  com¬ 
pany  of  Jehu  as  he  came.  .  .  .  The  watchman  said. 
The  driving  is  like  the  driving  of  Jehu  the  son  of  Nim- 
shi ;  for  he  driveth  furiously.”  The  mounted  messen¬ 
gers  sent  out  to  meet  him  could  be  seen  by  the  guard  at 
least  five  or  six  miles  off.  Then  Joram,  King  of  Israel, 
and  Ahajiah,  King  of  Judah,  went  out  each  in  his  chariot 
and  met  the  dashing  Jehu  in  the  portion  of  Naboth  the 
Jezreelite.  Jehu  drew  his  bow  with  his  full  strength  and 
smote  Joram,  and  told  his  captain  to  cast  him  in  the 
portion  of  the  field  of  Naboth  the  Jezreelite.  2  Kings  9. 

When  Jehu  had  reached  Jezreel,  he  bade  two  or  three 
eunuchs  to  throw  the  wicked  Jezebel  down  from  a  window, 
where  the  dogs  devoured  her  corpse  (2  Kings  9),  a  thing 
not  unusual  for  dogs  in  the  East.  They  have  more  of 
the  habits  of  the  hyena  than  of  the  faithful,  kind  animal 
of  their  species  in  other  countries.  In  some  parts  of  the 
Orient,  heaps  of  stone  are  put  on  the  graves  to  prevent 
them  from  digging  up  the  dead.  They  are  a  mean, 


376 


EASTERN  DOaS. 


sneaking,  scabby,  dirty  animal,  with  hair  standing  on  end, 
and  wolfish  heads,  kicked  and  cudgelled  by  everybody 
that  comes  within  reach  of  them.  Next  to  the  Arabs 
and  Turks,  they  are  the  greatest  robbers  in  the  East. 
They  prowl  and  steal  around  the  traveller’s  tent,  and  the 
moment  he  turns  his  back  they  thrust  their  dirty  snouts 
into  his  cooking  pans,  and  even  into  the  bowls  on  his 
table.  Few  things  but  dogs  could  raise  the  ire  of  Mo¬ 
hammed,  our  patient,  forbearing  cook.  The  approach  of 
these  walking,  scenting  skeletons,  would  raise  his  Theban 
blood,  and  provoke  a  storm  of  Arabic  invective,  and  stones. 
The  treatment  which  they  receive  makes  them  shy ;  and, 
as  they  are  shunned  and  cursed  by  all,  they  must  either 
steal  or  starve. 

The  dog  has  ever  been  regarded  as  an  unclean  animal 
in  the  East.  ‘‘  Thou  shalt  not  bring  the  hire  of  a  whore 
or  the  price  of  a  dog  into  the  house  of  the  Lord  thy  God 
for  any  vow  :  for  ever  both  these  are  an  abomination  unto 
the  Lord  thy  God.”  It  was  a  synonym  for  contemptible 
meanness.  “Am  I  a  dog  ?”  said  Goliath  to  David  when 
the  little  shepherd  boy  approached  him  with  stone  and 
sling.  “But  what!  is  thy  servant  a  dog,  that  he  should 
do  this  great  thing?”  Hazael  said  to  Elijah  when  he 
predicted  his  future  cruelties  to  Israel.  When  Shimei 
cursed  David  in  his  flight  from  Absalom,  Abishai  said: 
“Why  should  this  dead  dog  curse  my  lord  the  king?” 
And  no  epithet  is  oftener  on  the  scowling  Moslem’s  lips 
when  he  curses  the  hated  Christian,  than  “infidel  dog.” 

As  we  advanced,  little  Mount  Hermon,  an  oblong 
mountain,  rose  out  of  the  plain,  and  beyond  this  the 
lovely  Tabor.  We  had^ajgfeed  in  the  morning  to  go  by 
Shunem,  but  our  cowardly  escort,  fearing  the  Arabs,  took 
us  another  way.  From  early  childhood  I  had  delighted 


THE  S  H  U  N  A  M  M  I  T  E  WOMAN.  STT 

in  the  sweet  story  of  the  prophet  and  the  Shunammite 
woman,  and  had  my  own  childish  dreams  of  the  place 
even  after  I  ceased  to  be  a  child.  Few  passages  in  the 
Old  Testament  possess  such  a  natural  simplicity  and 
touching  interest.  “And  it  fell  on  a  day,  that  Elisha 
passed  to  Shunem,  where  was  a  great  woman ;  and  she 
constrained  him  to  eat  bread.  And  so  it  was,  that  as  oft 
as  he  passed  by  he  turned  in  thither  to  eat  bread.  And 
she  said  unto  her  husband.  Behold  now,  I  perceive  that 
this  is  an  holy  man  of  God,  which  passeth  by  us  con¬ 
tinually.  Let  us  make  a  little  chamber,  I  pray  thee,  on 
the  wall ;  and  let  us  set  for  him  there  a  bed,  and  a  table, 
and  a  stool,  and  a  candlestick :  and  it  shall  be  w'hen  he 
cometh  to  us,  that  he  shall  turn  in  thither.”  2  Kings 
4  :  8-10.  Just  such  a  room  and  furniture  as  would  suit 
a  student  or  minister  of  the  nineteenth  century. 

I  insisted  on  going  to  Shunem.  Our  soldiers,  with 
characteristic  coolness,  deserted  us  and  returned  to 
Jenin.  Ahmed  provoked  the  fear  of  the  party  with  dis¬ 
mal  tales  of  Shunammite  villany.  I  vainly  begged  him  to 
give  me  only  a  few  attendants  ;  for  with  me  it  was  clearly 
now  or  never,  so  far  as  seeing  this  shrine  of  holy  hospi¬ 
tality  was  joncerned.  I  rode  up  to  Ahmed  and  demanded 
a  revolver.  Finally,  to  escape  my  importunity,  he  handed 
me  an  unloaded  one,  never  dreaming  that  I  would  be  so 
rash  as  to  venture  thither  alone  with  such  a  weapon.  But 
Shunem  I  wished  to  see,  and  to  Shunem  I  would  go. 
Giving  spurs  to  my  gallant  grey,  I  galloped  off  alone, 
across  the  pathless  undulating  vale.  The  soil  was  like  a 
soft  heap  of  ashes,  into  which  he  sank  deep  at  every  tread. 
I  crossed  a  ravine  covered  with  thistles  as  dense  and  high 
as  hemp.  Arrived  on  a  hill,  I  reconnoitred  by  means  of 
a  spy-glass,  and  discovered  Shunem  nestled  along  the  foot 
32* 


378 


S  H  U  N  E  M. 


of  little  Mount  Hermon.  Spying  an  Arab  apparently 
bunting  something,  I  thought  it  best  to  look  the  warrior 
as  fiercely  as  possible.  So  I  rode  on,  bridle  in  one  hand 
and  pistol  in  the  other,  finger  on  the  trigger,  as  if  ready 
to  crack  away  at  the  first  sign  of  an  attack.  On  an 
elevation  about  two  or  three  minutes  from  the  edge  of  the 
village,  I  reined  up  the  horse  to  take  a  view  of  it.  Igno¬ 
rant  of  the  language,  and  alone,  I  deemed  it  prudent  not 
to  ride  through  the,  town,  where  they  could  easily  have 
captured  me  by  cutting  off  my  retreat  to  the  main  road. 
I  had  a  clear  and  satisfactory  view  by  means  of  a  glass. 
Shumen  is  on  the  steep  western  slope  of  little  Mount  Her¬ 
mon,  a  small  dirty  village,  skirted  with  trees  which  looked 
like  pomegranates  and  large  cactus,  (or  prickly  pears,) 
about  the  size  of  an  ordinary  peach  tree.  It  has  a  small 
fountain,  hardly  suflScient  for  the  wants  of  its  inhabitants. 
Their  low  huts  seemed  no  more  than  six  or  eight  feet 
high.  In  the  centre  were  a  few  larger  buildings,  among 
which  w^as  most  likely  the  village  mosque.  I  saw  but  few 
people  in  the  narrow  streets,  but  a  number  were  plough¬ 
ing  in  the  neighboring  fields. 

From  here  David,  in  his  old  age,  got  “  a  fair  damsel, 
Abishag  a  Shunammite,”  for  a  wife.  Elisha  forfeited  the 
peace  of  a  fixed  settled  home  when  he  left  his  oxen  to 
become  a  prophet,  still  a  common  fate  among  the  prophets 
of  the  Christian  ministry.  1  Kings  19  :  19-21.  He  roves 
about  to  the  Jordan,  Gilgal,  Samaria,  Dotham,  Jezreel, 
Shunem,  Carmel,  and  Damascus.  How  sweet  to  find  one 
spot  in  a  quiet  village  along  a  mountain-side,  overlooking 
a  fertile,  populous  l)lain,  where  pious  hospitality  always 
had  a  furnished  room  and  a  spread  table  ready  for  him  ! 
Often  he  tarried  in  the  chamber  on  the  wall  at  Shunem,  sat 
on  the  stool  by  the  table  on  which  was  the  candlestick  of 


ELISliA  RAISES  THE  DEAD  CHILD.  379 

his  friend,  and  slept  in  the  bed  her  provident  kindness, 
characteristic  of  her  sex,  had  furnished.  She  was  asked 
what  she  desired  in  return.  A  favor  from  “  the  Kino'  or 

o 

captain  of  the  host?  ”  She  said:  “  I  dwell  among  mine  own 
people.”  That  is  to  say,  I  am  highly  favored,  contented, 
and  happy.  God  blessed  her  with  a  son.  When  the 
child  had  coiled  around  her  heart,  death  suddenly  tore 
him  from  her.  Her  first  thought  for  relief  is  toward  the 
‘‘  holy  man  of  God.”  He  is  over  there  on  Carmel,  per¬ 
haps  eight  or  ten  -miles  off.  Near  the  sea,  at  the  western 
end  of  the  plain,  she  can  see  the  place  from  Shunem. 
“  She  saddled  an  ass,  and  said  to  her  servant.  Drive  and 
go  forward ;  slack  not  thy  riding  for  me  except  I  bid 
thee!”  From  the  mountain  he  sees  her  coming  “afar 
off”  down  in  the  plain.  Gehazi  is  quickly  sent  to  see 
what  is  the  matter.  Elisha  alone  durst  hear  her  doleful 
tidings.  He  foreknew  the  future.  Knew  that  her  child 
should  die.  Why  then  pray  God  to  give  her  a  son,  only 
to  tear  and  crush  her  heart  in  his  early  death  ?  “  Did  I 

desire  a  son  of  my  lord  ?  Did  I  not  say,  Do  not  deceive 
me  ?  ”  He  gives  her  back  the  living  child  ;  “  she  fell  at 
his  feet,  and  bowed  herself  to  the  ground  [in  gratitude,] 
and  took  up  her  son,  and  went  out.”  2  Kings  4. 

Having  had  a  satisfactory  view  of  Shunem,  and  made 
a  sketch  of  its  outlines,  I  turned  the  horse  in  the  direc¬ 
tion  of  my  companions,  of  whom  I  had  entirely  lost  sight. 
When  across  the  ridge  of  a  hill,  beyond  the  sight  of  the 
watchful  Shunammites,  I  gave  him  loose  reins  and  steered 
off  in  a  north-western  course.  The  Arab  peasants  in  the 
field  stopped  at  their  work  and  watched  my  goings.  Pre¬ 
sently  I  espied  two  turbaned  heads  peering  up  behind  a 
ridge  right  in  front  of  me,  in  whom  I  soon  discovered 
two  mounted  Arabs.  We  were  directly  approaching  each 


880 


ADVENTURE  v\^ITH  ARABS. 


other  on  the  same  path,  so  that  I  was  bound  to  face  the 
music.  Assuming  the  air  of  daring,  undaunted  fortitude, 
aided  by  the  fierce  physique  of  a  luxuriant  beard  and  a 
bronzed  complexion,  tanned  by  a  hot  Eastern  sun,  we 
approached,  each  eyeing  the  other  with  evident  suspicion. 
Just  as  we  met  I  raised  the  right  hand  to  my  breast  and 
forehead,  in  salutation,  —  ‘‘  Salaam,  aleikum,”  (peace  be 
with  you.)  They  muttered  a  reluctant  reply,  showing 
clearly  that  they  cared  not  for  peace  just  then.  (The 
Arab  never  salutes  an  enemy.)  When  they  were  a  few 
paces  past  me  one  shouted  in  a  gruff  tone  of  voice : 
“  Osber  !  ”  (stop  !)  But  nothing  daunted, — for  I  did  not 
know  just  then  what  the  word  meant,  which,  by  the  way, 
detracts  considerably  from  my  share  of  glory  in  the 
adventure, — I  left  the  horse  walk  on,  with  an  air  of  appa¬ 
rent  unconcern,  meanwhile  holding  on  to  the  trigger,  and 
watching  with  side  glances  whether  they  were  pursuing. 
In  that  event,  as  I  had  neither  the  desire  nor  ability  to 
fire,  the  whole  affair  would  have  become  a  question  of 
speed.  I  had  great  confidence  in  the  fleetness  of  my 
horse,  and  unless  cut  off  from  our  party,  felt  pretty  con¬ 
fident  that  I  could  outride  them  in  the  event  of  a  chase. 
But  they  feared  the  little  iron  in  my  hand.  I  was  told, 
(I  cannot  vouch  for  its  truth,)  that  so  few  of  the  Arabs 
ever  seeing  revolvers,  they  circulate  frightful  stories  about 
their  destructive  properties,  and  that  some  really  believe 
if  you  once  pull  the  trigger  it  will  crack  away  as  long  as 
a  foe  is  within  sight  or  reach.  A  slight  rise  in  the  plain 
soon  hid  me  from  their  view,  and  I  left  my  Arab  streak 
away  to  his  heart’s  content. 

After  riding  several  miles,  I  reached  an  eminence  from 
which  I  discovered  our  cavalcade  in  the  distance,  halting 
for  a  consultation.  They  had  seen  the  two  mounted 


UNEASY  DRAGOMEN. 


381 


Arabs  going  in  the  direction  of  Shunem,  and  thought  that 
most  probably  I  had  fallen  into  their  hands,  or  those  of 
some  others.  Ahmed  was  in  the  greatest  distress,  both 
on  my  account  and  his  own.  For  these  Egyptian  drago¬ 
men  are  licensed  by  the  Pasha.  They  must  bring  a  cer¬ 
tificate  of  perfect  satisfaction  from  every  traveller  they 
serve.  If  they  fail  in  this,  or  complaints  are  otherwise 
made,  they  are  at  once  deprived  of  their  license.  He 

begged  Mr.  M - to  give  him  a  certificate,  in  the  event 

of  my  injury  or  death,  exonerating  him  from,  all  blame 
in  the  matter.  While  they  were  thus  consulting  what 
course  to  pursue,  I  hove  in  sight,  to  their  exceeding 
delight.  Ahmed  undertook  to  read  me  a  lecture  for 
rashly  imperilling  my  life  and  his  reputation  as  a  drago¬ 
man.  I  told  him  that  we  Christians  thought  as  much  of 
our  prophet  and  Koran  as  they  did  of  theirs ;  that  we 
came  5000  miles  to  see  the  holy  places  of  our  religion, 
and  to  worship  our  Maker  around  their  shrines.  And 
now,  after  we  had  employed  him  at  a  munificent  price  to 
conduct  us  to  these  places,  he  seemed  to  think  we  cared 
no  more  about  them  than  a  follower  of  Mohammed,  and 
hoped  to  hurry  us  on  without  even  a  passing  glimpse, 
under  the  pretext  of  danger.  If  he  and  his  escort  were 
unwilling  to  furnish  us  the  service  for  which  they  had 
been  employed,  we  must  serve  ourselves,  and  they  be 
responsible  for  danger  and  death.  This  little  reply  gave 
him  a  clearer  idea  of  duty,  and  quieted  his  croaking. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  this  is  an  unsafe  region.  Rev. 
Mr.  Arthur,  an  eminent  Wesleyan  minister  of  London, 
passed  over  this  plain  several  weeks  later,  with  his  lady. 
He  told  me  afterwards  at  Beirut,  that  he  was  attacked 
by  a  set  of  Arabs  between  Jenin  and  the  little  Hermon, 
who  demanded  money  with  presented  guns.  What  his 


382 


ARAB  TACTICS. 


armed  muleteers  could  not  accomplish,  fifteen  dollars  had 
the  power  to  effect.  These  Arabs  fear  nothing  so  much 
as  pluck.  They  fight,  fire,  and  rave  in  their  own  style, 
but  the  boldest  robber  fears  to  take  liberties  with  intrepid 
prowess,  even  should  it  be  merely  assumed  for  a  special 
object.  Possibly  these  men  had  never  before  seen  a 
Frank  ride  around  Shunem  without  an  armed  escort. 
They  may  have  thought  that  one  who  undertakes  this 
must  either  be  a  demoniac  or  a  bold  warrior.  The  former 
they  revere,  the  latter  they  fear.  While  I  may  be 
charged  with  rashness  for  entering  upon  such  an  adven¬ 
ture  without  any  available  arms,  I  felt  that  under  Provi¬ 
dence,  there  was  as  much  if  not  more  virtue  in  an  empty 
revolver,  than  one  with  powder  and  bullet.  But  to  have 
done  it  without  going  through  the  harmless  motions  of 
martial  courage,^ would  have  been  wrong,  as  that  might 
have  tempted  these  freebooters  to  commit  actual  robbery, 
if  not  murder.  ^ 

The  contrast  between  this  plain  and  some  of  the  more 
southern  districts  of  Palestine  is  very  striking.  The 
rough  conical  hills  and  undistinguishable  undulations  of 
Judea,  from  Hebron  to  Samaria,  are  a  bleak  barren 
region  in  comparison  with  the  valley  of  Jezreel  or  Es- 
draelon.  It  consists  of  an  uneven  plain,  now  level,  then 
uneven  and  undulating,  extending  from  the  Mediterra¬ 
nean  on  the  west  to  the  Jordan  on  the  east,  and  from  the 
mountains  of  southern  to  those  of  northern  Palestine, 
forming  the  roots  of  Lebanon.  From  north  to  south  it 
is  about  twelve,  and  from  east  to  west,  about  twenty  miles 
in  size.  The  southern  part  is  pretty  well  cultivated  ;  the 
rest  only  here  and  there.  Many  parts  are  teeming  with 
spontaneous  vegetation,  with  hay-harvests  unsown  and  un¬ 
reaped,  and  an  indescribable  profusion  of  wild  flowers, 


VALLEY  OF  MEGIDDO. 


388 


blending  their  rich  colors  like  a  variegated  carpet  in  tints 
of  charming  beauty.  The  villages  are  built  on  mound¬ 
like  elevations,  like  those  along  the  Nile.  The  fellahs  or 
Arab  farmers  never  put  any  manure  on  the  soil.  The 
women  make  large  cakes  of  this,  then  dry  it  in  the  sun, 
and  use  it  for  fuel  in  place  of  wood.  And  yet  in  spite 
of  their  skimming  ploughs,  and  the  absence  of  manure,' 
they  raise  luxuriant  crops  of  wheat,  barley,  cotton,  and 
millet  for  many  years  in  succession.  This  plain  has  been 
enriched  with  floods  of  human  gore.  Its  central  position 
between  the  highlands  and  lowlands,  the  north  and  south 
of  Palestine,  has  made  it  the  arena  of  bloody  wars,  one 
of  the  most  sanguinary  battle-fields  in  the  world.  To 
an  Israelite  this  “  valley  of  Megiddo,”  as  it  is  sometimes 
called,  is  associated  with  some  mournful  recollections. 
Two  kings,  Saul  and  Josiah,  were  slain  on  its  soil ;  and 
the  two  most  touching  and  melancholy  dirges  in  Hebrew 
poetry  were  evoked  by  the  defeats  of  Gilboa  and  Me¬ 
giddo.  1  Sam  31 ;  2  Chron  35.  It  was  not  until  the  later 
struggles  of  Hebrew  history  that  Jezreel  became  the 
theatre  of  their  wars.  Joshua  fought  all  his  battles  save 
one  in  the  more  southern  part  of  Palestine.  But  in  their 
later  history,  the  Canaanites  made  repeated  efforts  to 
regain  their  lost  possessions,  and  selected  Esdraelon  as 
their  battle-field,  generally  against  the  wishes  of  the 
Jews.  The  Jewish  cavalry  being  very  inferior,  they 
always  preferred  mountains  and  mountain  passes  for 
their  battles.  Their  enemies  often  possessing  many 
horses  and  chariots,  studiously  avoided  these,  and  in¬ 
vaded  the  plains  to  get  the  advantage  of  a  more  suitable 


384 


BIBLE  REMINISCENCES. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


fltii  Binniit  (Carmrl. 


That  day  in  the  Valley  of  Jezreel  will  long  be  re¬ 
membered.  Mount  Carmel,  Tabor,  Gilboa,  Gilead,  and 
the  bills  of  Basban,  Sbunem,  and  Jezreel,  all  seen  in  a 
morning’s  ride,  and  most  of  them  from  the  same  point 
of  view,  was  a  rare  entertainment  for  a  lover  and  student 
of  the  Bible.  Ever  and  anon  as  we  rode  on,  I  opened 
the  sacred  volume  and  read  its  descriptions  of  the  events 
connected  with  it.  We  selected  a  green  spot  for  our 
table  at  noon,  teeming  with  a  variety  of  wild  flowers, 
which  filled  the  air  with  pleasant  odors.  Hitherto  the 
little  Hermon  had  partly  concealed  Tabor,  which  is  only 
a  few  miles  north  of  it.  But  as  we  passed  the  former, 
it  rose  out  of  the  plain  with  striking  and  imposing  gran¬ 
deur,  carpeted  with  trees  and  grass  to  the  summit. 

Leaving  Tabor  to  the  right,  we  entered  a  rocky  ravine, 
and  then  crossed  a  rough,  tedious  mountain,  and  soon 
came  into  the  basin  of  Nazareth.  Riding  along  the 
slope  of  a  hill,  the  rounding  of  a  hluflf  suddenly  revealed 
the  home  of  Joseph  and  Mary  right  before  us,  perched 
on  the  side  of  this  mountain  kettle.  Dismounting  before 
the  Latin  Convent,  the  attentive  monks  gave  us  a  hospi¬ 
table  reception.  We  were  led  through  a  large  open 
court  in  the  interior,  and  from  here  up  a  narrow  stone 


CHURCH  OF  THE  ANNUNCIATION.  385 


stairway  into  an  arched  room.  This  will  be  our  abode 
for  a  few  days.  A  long  day’s  journey  through  the  hot 
sun  had  wearied  us  no  little.  Sleep  soon  refreshed 
“  tired  nature,”  from  which  a  monk  gently  woke  us  to 
accept  of  a  glass  of  lemonade.  Our  lodgings  in  the 
convent  were  cheerfully  genial  and  home-like,  free  from 
the  stern  austerity  of  asceticism. 

Soon  the  ringing  cry  of  the  herald  rolled  over  Naza¬ 
reth  from  a  neighboring  minaret,  calling  her  1000  Mo¬ 
hammedans  to  prayer.  Between  2000  and  3000  Chris¬ 
tians  make  up  the  remaining  population.  These,  again, 
are  composed  of  Greek,  Latin,  or  Roman  Catholic,  and 
Maronite  Christians.  Opposite  to  the  convent  is  the 
Church  of  the  Annunciation,  so  called  because  it  is  built 
over  the  traditional  grotto  or  cave  in  which  the  Virgin 
Mary  once  lived,  and  where  she  received  the  salutation 
of  the  angel,  and  the  promise  that  she  should  become  the 
mother  of  our  Lord.  The  grand  altar  is  placed  imme¬ 
diately  over  it,  on  a  raised  platform.  A  flight  of  stairs 
(ed  us  into  the  cave  below  the  altar.  Here  a  tablet 
marks  the  spot  where  the  Virgin  is  said  to  have  stood  when 
she  received  the  angelic  message,  with  the  inscription : 
Verbum  CARO  Hic  FACTUM  EST  {Here  the  Word  tvas 
made  flesh).  Near  this  were  three  ancient  columns,  put 
there  by  St.  Helena.  One  of  them  had  the  middlo 
broken  out,  while  the  two  ends  remained.  The  walls  of 
the  chamber  were  hung  with  striped  silk.  In  the  rear 
of  this  cave  are  others  of  smaller  size,  which  are  reputed 
parts  of  her  dwelling.  On  Sunday  we  were  present  at 
the  regular  service  in  this  church.  A  sweet-toned  organ 
and  a  choir  of  boys,  with  clear,  ringing  voices,  led  the 
melodious  praise.  The  large  number  present  looked 
devoiu  an"!  ^^arnest  in  their  worship. 


386  HOUSE  OF  JOSEPH  AND  MARY. 


The  Cave  of  the  Annunciation  is  now  a  chapel  or 
place  of  worship.  A  Romish  legend  says  -  the  small 
house  built  over  it  in  the  days  of  the  Virgin  was  removed 
in  this  wise:  —  In  the  thirteenth  centurv -the  Saracens 
threatened  to  destroy  the  Holy  Places  of  Palestine ;  in 
1291,  angels  carried  this  house  away  through  the  air, 
and  finally  brought  it  to  Loretto  in  Italy,  where  thousands 
still  revere  it  as  the  ^‘‘Casa  Santa"'  (the  holy  house)  — 
the  identical  dwelling  of  the  Virgin.  It  has  become  a 
great  shrine  for  European  pilgrims,  around  which  thou¬ 
sands  annually  bow  in  acts  of  worship. 

We  were  taken  to  the  so-called  house  of  Joseph  and 
his  carpenter  shop,  and  also  to  a  large  rock  in  a  dwell¬ 
ing,  on  which  He  and  His  disciples  are  said  frequently 
to  have  broken  bread.  The  rock  is  about  twelve  feet  in 
diameter,  and  its  flat  top  about  three  feet  above  the 
ground.  All  the  sacred  localities  of  Nazareth  are  more 
or  less  involved  in  doubt.  Here,  as  elsewhere,  I  found 
it  best  to  dwell  on  the  general  features — those  character¬ 
istics  which  time  seldom  changes. 

Nazareth  is  never  mentioned  in  the  Old  Testament. 
Josephus  speaks  of  nearly  all  the  villages  around  here, 
but  never  mentions  this.  It  seems  to  have  been  a  small, 
insignificant  place,  without  a  history  and  political  im¬ 
portance.  Galilee  abounds  with  mountain-basins,  in 
which  villages  and  larger  towns  were  often  found.  In 
such  a  basin  is  Nazareth.  Fifteen  hills  swell  above  and 
around  it  on  the  edge  of  this  kettle  or  mountain-shell.  An 
ancient  writer  says:  “Nazareth  is  a  rose;  and,  like  a 
rose,  has  the  same  rounded  form,  enclosed  by  mountains, 
as  the  flower  by  its  leaves.”  This  hollow  is  about  a  mile 
long,  and  half  a  mile  wide.  It  belonged  to  the  tribe  of 
Zebulon,  and  is  about  six  miles  from  Mount  Tabor,  and 


SITUATION  OF  NAZARETH. 


387 


perhaps  twentj-two  miles  from  the  southern  end  of  the 
sea  of  Galilee.  Along  the  western  slope  of  this  hollow, 
on  an  uneven  rise  of  the  hill,  was  nestled  the  obscure 
village  of  Nazareth,  where  it  remains  to  this  day.  Small 
and  unknown,  it  is  yet  the  nursery  and  school  of  the 
world’s  Redeemer !  The  first  visitor  to  the  place,  of 
whom  we  have  any  account,  was  an  angel :  “  And  in  the 
sixth  month  the  angel  Gabriel  was  sent  from  God  unto  a 
city  of  Galilee,  named  Nazareth.”  Luke  1  :  26. 

Joseph  and  Mary  lived  here,  betrothed,  but  not  actu¬ 
ally  married.  Both  pious  and  industrious,  he  a  hard¬ 
working  carpenter,  she  perhaps  still  an  affectionate  child 
under  the  parental  roof.  They  were  little  known  here, 
and  less  elsewhere.  They  longed  and  prayed  for  the 
promised  Messiah,  the  consolation  of  Israel.  One  day  a 
mysterious  messenger  from  the  spirit-world  suddenly 
saluted  Mary,  and  brought  her  the  surprising  intelligence 
that  she  was  to  be  the  mother  of  her  Lord,  the  Messiah ; 
—  though,  by  a  Providential  coincidence  He  was  born  in 
Bethlehem  of  Judea,  He  was  ever  after  called  Jesus  of 
Nazareth.  And  so  the  humble  home  of  Mary,  who  was 
“blessed  among  women,”  became  blessed  among  cities, 
and  received  the  solitary  distinction  of  having  its  name 
connected  with  the  Saviour  of  the  world. 

This  distinction  was  not  awarded  on  the  ground  of 
merit ;  for  our  Almighty  Father  always  delights  to  bless 
from  mercy  rather  than  merit.  The  people  of  Nazareth 
bore  a  bad  character,  and  doubtless  deservedly  so.  As 
it  was  a  Galilean  town,  it  shared  the  reproach  of  the  bad 
repute  of  Galilee,  which  had  become  famous  for  ignor¬ 
ance,  turbulence,  and  its  general  inferiority  to  the  other 
parts  of  Palestine.  Once  He  visited  the  home  of  His 
childhood,  as  most  persons  will,  if  they  can.  It  was  on 


388 


MOUNT  OF  PRECIPITATION. 


a  Jewish  Sabbath  (Saturday),  when  the  Law  was  read  in 
the  synagogue.  On  such  occasions  strangers  present 
were  often  invited  to  say  a  word  of  explanation.  So 
Christ  explained  the  passage  read.  They  knew  Him, 
and  His  humble  mother  and  reputed  father,  who,  it  would 
seem,  were  unlettered  people.  They  could  see  no  reason 
why  every  one  present  should  not  know  as  much  as  He. 
“They  were  astonished  and  said,  Whence  hath  this  man 
this  wisdom,  and  these  mighty  words  ?  Is  not  this  the 
carpenter’s  son?  is  not  his  mother  called  Mary?  and  his 
brethren  James,  and  Joses,  and  Simon,  and  Judas?  And 
his  sisters  are  they  not  all  with  us  ?  Whence  then  hath 
this  man  all  these  things  ?  And  they  were  oifended  in 
him.”  Matt.  13  :  53-56. 

At  another  time  he  taught  at  home  in  the  synagogue, 
“  and  they  were  filled  with  wrath,  and  rose  up  and  thrust 
him  out  of  the  city,  and  led  him  unto  the  brow  of  the 
hill  (wLereon  their  city  was  built),  that  they  might  cast 
him  down  headlong.  But  he  passing  through  the  midst 
of  them,  ’went  his  way.”  Luke  4  :  28,  29.  Around  Na¬ 
zareth  are  still  precipitous  rocks,  which  would  furnish 
“the  brow”  from  which  they  attempted  to  cast  him. 
The  traditional  place,  called  the  Mount  of  Precipitation, 
is  on  the  side  of  the  mountain  toward  the  plain  of  Jezreel, 
as  you  come  from  Jerusalem,  about  two  miles  from  the 
town.  But  there  would  have  been  no  need  to  go  so  far, 
when  there  were  places  near  the  town  from  which  to  cast 
him  down. 

All  this  shows  that  Nazareth  was  pre-eminent  for 
rudeness  among  the  villages  of  Galilee.  This  is  obvious, 
too,  from  the  expression  of  Nathanael,  himself  of  Cana 
in  Galilee.  When  Philip  told  him  at  Bethsaida,  twenty- 
five  miles  from  here,  that  they  had  found  the  Messiah  in 


HISTORY  OF  NAZARETH. 


389 


1 


Jesus  of  Nazareth,  he  replied :  Can  there  any  good 

thing  come  out  of  Nazareth?” —  an  opinion  which  doubt¬ 
less  accorded  with  the  prevailing  sentiment  of  his  country¬ 
men.  It  was  in  bad  repute,  from  which  nothing  good 
was  expected. 

After  Christ,  we  find  no  mention  of  Nazareth  for  400 
years.  In  the  sixth  century  we  find  a  Christian  church 
here,  which  the  Saracens  destroyed.  The  Crusaders  es¬ 
tablished  a  bishopric  here.  Afterward  the  whole  country 
again  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Turks.  In  1620,  the 
Franciscan  monks  were  suffered  to  rebuild  their  church 
and  convent.  In  1720  both  were  enlarged  and  beauti¬ 
fied.  On  the  eve  of  his  battle  with  the  Turks  in  the 
neighboring  plain  of  Jezrecl,  Napoleon  dined  at  Naza¬ 
reth. 

The  town  is  said  to  be  larger  now  than  at  any  previous 
period  of  its  history,  having  a  population  of  between 
3000  and  4000.  Until  the  time  of  the  Crusades  it  was 
a  very  inferior  village,  and  before  and  since  it  has  passed 
through  many  stormy  vicissitudes,  the  victim  of  lawless 
violence.  It  has  quietly  grown  during  the  last  hundred 
years,  owing  to  the  uncurbed  inroads  of  the  Arabs  from 
the  Desert  and  beyond  the  Jordan,  which  have  driven 
the  people  from  the  smaller  neighboring  villages  hither 
for  refuge,  until  it  has  become  the  most  important  town 
in  Galilee. 

The  houses  are  of  stone,  and  built  after  the  Eastern 
style,  having  flat  roofs,  without  the  domes  found  in  Jeru¬ 
salem  and  elsewhere.  The  dwellings  generally  arc  small, 
the  largest  building  being  the  Latin  convent  and  church. 
The  streets  are  irregular,  crooked,  narrow,  and  hilly ; 
some  of  them  abounding  with  rubbish  and  heaps  of  de- 
33* 


390 


FAMILY  MILLS. 


bris.  The  front  of  the  houses  is  all  solid  masonry,  save 
a  small  door  of  entrance. 

Passing  through  the  street  a  little  before  the  evening 
meal,  I  noticed  two  women  grinding  on  a  mill  within  one 
of  these  doors,  just  as  our  Saviour  has  it  in  predicting 
his  second  coming :  “  Two  women  shall  be  grinding  at 
the  mill ;  the  one  shall  -be  taken  and  the  other  left.” 
Matt.  24  :  41.  They  W'ere  sitting  on  rough  matting  or 
•perhaps  sackcloth,  spread  on  the  ground.  The  mill  con¬ 
sisted  of  two  stones,  perhaps  a  foot  or  eighteen  inches 
in  diameter  and  six  inches  high,  one  laid  on  the  other 
like  regular  burr-stones.  The  upper  one  had  an  upright 
'handle  near  the  outer  edge,  and  a  small  cavity  in  the 
centre  into  which  the  grain  was  poured.  Each  had  one 
hand  on  the  handle  turning  the  upper  stone,  and  one 
used  her  other  hand  to  put  grain  into  the  little  receiver. 
Usually  they  grind  before  every  meal  as  they  need  it. 
Passing  along  the  streets  of  Eastern  towns,  just  before 
meal-time,  I  could  often  hear  the  rumbling  noise  of  the 
mill. 

These  family  mills  are  frequently  alluded  to  in  the 
Bible.  When  the  country  was  cursed  with  a  famine, 
the  mills  and  the  noise  of  grinding  would  be  stopped, 
which  was  an  indication  that  bread  was  scarce.  “  The 
sound  of  the  grinding  is  low.”  Eccle.  12  :  4.  “I  will 
take  from  them  .  .  .  the  sound  of  the  millstones.”  Jer. 
25  :  10.  John  says  of  Babylon  :  “And  the  sound  of  a 
millstone  shall  be  heard  no  more  at  all  in  thee.”  Bev. 
18  :  22.  One  rarely  meets  with  mills  of  any  other  kind. 
With  the  roving  habits  of  Arabs  and  even  of  the  ancient 
Hebrews,  it  was  an  indispensable  domestic  implement. 
Moses  shows  his  sound  common  sense  and  foresight,  by 
making  it  a  part  of  the  Law  that  “  no  man  shall  take 


ILLUSTRATIONSOF  THE  MILLSTONE.  391 

the  nether  or  the  upper  millstone  to  pledge:  for  he 
taketh  a  man’s  life  to  pledge.”  Deut.  24  :  6.  As  the 
lower  or  nether  millstone,  hearing  the  weight  of  the 
upper  and  therefore  more  of  the  friction  of  grinding, 
usually  becomes  harder  by  wear,  Job  uses  it  as  a  figure 
to  illustrate  the  hard  heart  of  the  leviathan.  “  His 
heart  is  as  firm  as  a  stone ;  yea  as  hard  as  a  piece  of 
the  nether  millstone.”  Job  41  :  24.  Grinding  w'as,  and 
still  is,  often  the  work  of  slaves  or  captives.  Poor  blind 
Sampson  was  brought  down  to  Gaza,  and  compelled  to 
“grind  in  the  prison-house.”  Judges  16  :  21.  Those 
that  were  in  the  lowest  layer  of  society,  the  antipodes 
of  kings,  were  among  the  grinders.  The  last  plague  of 
Egypt  extended  “from  the  first-born  of  Pharaoh  that 
sitteth  upon  his  throne,  even  unto  the  first-born  of  the 
maid-servant  that  is  behind  the  mill,''  Ex.  11  :  5.  And 
Isaiah,  predicting  the  righteous  judgment  of  God  upon 
the  foes  of  Israel,  tells  the  virgin  daughter  of  Babylon 
and  of  the  Chaldeans,  “  Take  the  millstone  and  grind 
meal.”  Isaiah  47  :  2. 

According  to  our  common  notions  of  the  size  of  a  mill¬ 
stone,  the  Saviour’s  expression  about  sinking  him  that 
giveth  offence  to  the  depth  of  the  sea,  would  seem  next 
to  impossible.  But  these  domestic  mills  clearly  illustrate 
his  expression  ;  not  being  too  large  to  lift  for  such  a  use, 
and  still  heavy  enough  to  sink  a  person.  “But  whoso 
shall  offend  one  of  these  little  ones  which  believe  in  me, 
it  were  hotter  that  a  millstone  were  hanged  about  his 
neck,  and  that  he  were  drowned  in  the  depth  of  the  sea.” 
!Matt.  18  :  6.  In  some  parts  of  the  East  the  custom  still 
prevails  to  bind  stones  to  the  necks  of  criminals,  and  cast 
them  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 

Toward  evening  we  ascended  a  hill  on  the  west  of  the 


392 


VIEW  FROM  NAZARETH. 


town,  rising  about  500  feet  above  the  bottom  of  the 
basin. 

It  is  crowned  by  tbe  tomb  of  a  Moslem  saint  —  the 
Wely  of  Neby  Ismail.  What  a  view  for  one  in  the  middle 
of  the  nineteenth  century  !  There  lay  the  luxuriant 
plain  of  Jezreel,  with  its  bloody  history.  On  its  further 
border,  Gilboa.  Endor  and  Nain  on  the  rising  slope  of 
the  little  Ilermon.  Mount  Tabor,  towering  high  out  of 
the  plain.  And  north  of  it  the  great  Mount  Hermon, 
whose  head,  way  up  in  the  clouds,  was  white  with  eternal 
snow.  Saphet,  ‘‘the  city  set  on  a  hill”  of  our  Saviour 
(Matt.  5  :  14),  hung  high  up  on  a  mountain  bluff.  About 
five  miles  to  the  north-west,  in  a  vale,  lay  Sefurieh,  the 
Sephoris  of  Josephus,  and  the  Diocaesarea  of  the  Romans 
and  the  fathers.  In  the  same  little  plain  is  “  Cana  of 
Galilee,”  where  Christ  turned  the  water  into  wine  at  the 
wedding,  and  the  native  place  of  Nathanael.  John  2:1; 
4  :  46 ;  21  :  2.  Some  think  Joseph  and  Mary  lived  here 
during  the  early  part  of  our  Saviour’s  ministry.  Then 
on  the  west  is  the  vast  blue  sea,  from  whose  shore  rises 
Mount  Carmel,  with  the  town  of  Caipha  at  its  base. 

The  centre  of  this  thrilling  scene  is  this  “peaceful 
basin  ”  which  encircles  Nazareth.  The  mountains  rise 
around  it  “  like  the  edge  of  a  shell  to  guard  it  from 
intrusion.”  How  appropriate  that  He  who  is  without 
beginning  of  days  or  end  of  years,  “  the  same  yesterday, 
to-day,  and  forever,”  should  be  born  in  a  place  without  a 
history  !  Surely  He  must  often  have  stood  on  this  hill, 
and  looked  out  upon  this  great  and  grand  prospect  —  on 
places  where  He  afterward  performed  miracles,  where 
He  was  transfigured,  where  He  was  rejected  by  His  own 
townsmen  ;  and  out  on  the  vast  sea  He  looked,  over  which 
the  “  glad  tidings  ”  of  his  atoning  death  were  borne  toward 


travellers’  annoyances. 


■393 


the  western  world,  and  a  continent  then  undiscovered 
and  unknown. 

Nazareth  is  remarkably  quiet,  for  a  town  of  its  size. 
From  that  hill-top  we  could  look  into  all  its  narrow 
streets,  in  which  but  few  persons  were  seen.  A  group 
of  little  boys  were  romping  about  in  play  on  a  flat  house¬ 
top,  hallooing  in  their  innocent  glee,  just  as  boys  do  in 
the  parks  and  village-greens  of  our  dear  native  land. 
Of  course,  where  there  are  no  wagons,  drays,  or  car¬ 
riages,  there  can  be  little  noise.  No  axe  or  hammer 
broke  the  hush  of  the  place,  only  the  boys  on  the  house¬ 
top.  As  the  sun  was  sinking  toward  the  sea  in  the  west, 
a  few  birds  started  a  song,  which  set  hundreds  of  unseen 
singers  to  warbling,  until  the  olive-trees  around  the 
‘‘city”  were  vocal  with  a  confusion  of  melodies,  such  as 
I  have  never  heard  elsewhere.  This  was  another  day 
to  think  about.  Wearied  and  hungry,  we  repaired  to 
our  cool  cell  in  the  convent,  where  our  dinner  was  wait¬ 
ing.  It  may  seem  a  trifling  matter  to  the  reader ;  but, 
after  a  long  repetition  of  the  same  dishes,  salad,  green 
beans,  and  other  extras,  were  a  dainty  which  we  had 
little  expected  in  a  place  where  fasting  is  the  rule  and 
feasting  the  exception.  And  what  then  ?  Patching  tat¬ 
tered  garments,  as  usual.  Sounds  irreverent,  after  such’ 
solemn  reveries  ;  but,  even  in  Nazareth,  a  man  must 
have  an  eye  to  his  mortal  wmnts.  The  reader  will  know 
hotv  to  make  allowance  for  such  vulgarities,  should  he 
ever  get  beyond  the  reach  of  tailors,  shoemakers,  and 
dry-goods  stores.  Here  a  man  will  learn  industry,  if 
there  is  any  such  a  thing  in  him.  Since  I  left  Egypt  I 
have  been  sorely  put-to,  at  different  times,  to  stitch  to¬ 
gether  the  shreds  of  w’orn-out  clothes,  burnt  up  by  the 
hot  sun.  Had  I  adopted  the  whole  Turkish  dress,  my 


394 


THE  BROOK  KISHON. 


tribulation  would  have  been  less  annoying.  On  the  fol¬ 
lowing  morning  we  started  for  the  Convent  of  Mount 
Carmel,  distant  about  twenty-five  miles.  Two  hours 
brought  us  out,  across  the  mountain,  into  the  plain  of 
Jezreel,  toward  the  sea.  Here  and  there  we  passed  a 
small  Arab  village,  whose  owners  raised  fine  fields  of 
wheat.  We  met  a  few  wandering  tribes,  with  their  cat¬ 
tle.  These  move  about,  and  live  in  tents,  wherever  they 
find  pasture  for  their  flocks.  In  three  hours  we  reached 
a  ridge,  running  across  the  plain,  abounding  with  large 
oaks  and  tall  grass.  In  four  hours  we  arrived  at  the 
“Brook  Kishon.”  Like  most  streams  in  the  East,  it  is 
dependent  on  the  rains  for  its  water.  At  this  time  it 
was  small,  perhaps  thirty  or  forty  feet  wide.  Like  most 
of  the  “  brooks  ”  of  Palestine,  it  is  a  mere  water-torrent, 
till  within  a  few  miles  from  the  sea. 

We  are  now  near  the  foot  of  Mount  Carmel,  in  sight 
of  the  top,  where  Elijah  met  the  prophets  of  Baal. 
Let  us  pause  to  look  at  this  thrilling  scene.  On  the 
eastern  end  of  the  Carmel  ridge,  on  a  wide  upland  sweep, 
a  clump  of  ancient  olives  are  grouped  around  a  well, 
which  the  people  of  the  neighborhood  say  never  fails. 
There  is  no  town  here,  only  a  shapeless  ruin,  whither  the 
Druses  come  to  offer  a  yearly  sacrifice.  Old  traditions 
point  to  this  spot  as  a  place  where  the  ancients  offered 
sacrifices.  It  is  one  of  the  very  few  traditions,  perhaps 
the  only  one,  “in  which  the  recollection  of  an  alleged 
event  has  been  actually  retained  in  the  native  Arabic 
nomenclature.  Many  names  of  towns  have  been  so  pre¬ 
served,  but  here  is  no  town,  only  a  shapeless  ruin  ;  yet 
the  spot  has  a  name,  ‘  El-Maharrakah  ’  (the  same  name 
is  applied  to  the  scene  of  the  Samaritan  sacrifice  on 
Gerizim),  ‘the  Burning’  or  ‘the  Sacrifice’.”  Elijah  did 


ELIJAH  ON  CARMEL. 


395 


not  build  a  new  altar,  but  repaired  that  which  was 
broken  down,”  showing  that  it  had  before  been  a  place 
of  sacrifice. 

It  had  not  rained  for  three  years  and  a  half.  The 
ground  had  become  parched,  the  grass  was  all  burnt  up 
in  this  fertile  plain  of  Jezreel,  and  the  people  died  fast 
for  want  of  bread.  Ahab  sent  Obadiah  “  unto  all  the 
fountains  of  water,  and  unto  all  the  brooks,”  in  search 
for  “grass  to  save  the  horses  and  mules  alive.”  After 
such  a  season  of  drought,  nearly  all  the  fountains  must 
have  been  dried  up.  But  here  was  this  never-failing 
well,  then  as  now,  on  Carmel.  Where  else  could  Elijah 
have  found  water  enough  to  “  pour  it  on  the  burnt-sacri¬ 
fice  and  on  the  wood”  three  times,  until  “the  water  ran 
about  the  altar;  and  he  filled  the  trench  also  with 
water  Here  again,  as  elsewhere,  a  well  becomes  a 
monument  of  the  past,  to  identify  an  important  locality. 
1  Kings  18  :  30-40. 

Hither  Elijah  brought  the  prophets  of  Baal  and  those 
of  the  groves  or  of  Astarte,  850  in  all ;  we  have  Ahab 
and  the  priests  on  the  one  side,  and  on  the  other  the 
stern,  solitary  figure  of  the  man  of  God.  Immediately 
below  them  was  this  brook  of  Kishon,  worming  its  way 
toward  the  Bay  of  Acre,  at  whose  banks  we  now  stand. 
The  whole  plain  spread  out  before  them  with  its  cities 
and  villages  —  Jezreel,  with  Ahab’s  palace  and  Jezreel’s 
temple  clearly  seen  ;  Shunem,  where  lived  Elisha’s  friend ; 
and  Tabor,  Bashan,  Gilead,  and  Gilboa  in  the  distance, 
all  witnessed  the  awfully  solemn  ceremony  which  was  to 
decide  who  was  God,  Baal  or  the  Lord.  From  morning 
till  noon  they  “cried  aloud”  to  the  fabulous  god,  and 
at  the  evening  sacrifice  (at  three  in  the  afternoon), 
Elijah  prepared  his  offering,  invoked  fire  from  heaven. 


396  THE  IDOLATROUS  PRIESTS  SLAIN. 

which  consumed  the  altar,  bullock,  and  water.  Then  he 
brought  the  false  prophets  “  down  ”  the  sides  of  the 
mountain  “to  the  brook  Kishon,”  doubtless  near  where 
we  are  now  standing,  “and  slew  them  there.”  1  Kings 
18  :  40. 

The  false  prophets  slain,  “Elijah  said  unto  Ahab, 
Get  thee  up,  eat  and  drink ;  for  there  is  a  sound  of 
abundance  of  rain.”  So  the  king  “went  up”  again 
from  this  bloody  spectacle  to  the  mountain,  meanwhile 
pensively  pondering  over  what  he  had  seen.  “And 
Elijah  went  up  to  the  top  of  Carmel,”  to  where  they  had 
sacrificed  near  the  well.  Right  above  the  altar  is  still  a 
knoll  or  elevation,  which  intercepts  the  view  of  the  sea. 
In  a  few  minutes  you  can  ascend  to  the  top  from  the  well, 
afibrding  a  view  of  the  Mediterranean.  Elijah  “cast 
himself  down  upon  the  earth”  in  the  neighborhood  of 
the  well,  from  where  he  could  not  see  it.  Hence  he 
“  said  to  his  servant.  Go  up  now  [to  this  adjacent 
hill],  look  toward  the  sea.”  Most  likely  the  sun  had 
already  set,  draping  the  heavens  with  a  momentary  gor¬ 
geous  splendor,  so  peculiar  to  an  oriental  sunset.  Seven 
times  he  looked  out  into  this  heaven  of  brass,  which 
spread  its  glowing  image  on  the  sea,  and  the  seventh 
time  only  he  saw  a  little  cloud  where  the  sea  and  the 
sky  met,  “like  a  man’s  hand.”  It  soon  covered  the  lu¬ 
minous  trail  of  the  departed  sun.  The  king  is  kindly 
advised  to  hasten  to  Jezreel,  twelve  or  fifteen  miles  off, 
before  the  rain  will  swell  the  torrent  of  Kishon  and 
endanger  his  progress.  Ahab  mounts  his  chariot  at  the 
foot  of  the  mountain  and  speeds  him  away ;  Elijah 
tightens  his  “girdle  of  leather”  around  his  loose, 
coarse  blanket  (2  Kings  1  :  8),  so  that  it  will  not  hamper 
his  limbs,  and  outruns  the  king  in  his  chariot,  for  he  was 


FLEET NESS  OF  THE  BEDOUIN. 


397 


swift  afoot,  as  the  Bedonins  of  his  native  Gilead  still  are. 
The  little  cloud  soon  becomes  large  and  black  over  Car¬ 
mel,  like  a  pall,  and  the  forests  shake  with  the  wind, 
which  in  eastern  regions  herald  the  coming  tempest. 
Then  comes  the  long-desired  rain,  tumbling  in  torrents 
down  Carmel’s  side  and  athwart  the  plain  of  Jezreel. 

One  still  finds  many  counterparts  to  the  swift-footed 
Elijah  among  the  Bedouins  of  the  East,  whose  abstemious 
habits  and  exemption  from  the  4^t)ilitating  effects  of 
luxury  orive  them  a  marvellous  fleetness  of  foot.  In 
looking  at  their  sunken  eagle  eyes,  lean  figures,  scanty 
garments  (like  a  coarse  shawl  with  arm-holes  for  sleeves, 
and  a  girdle  around  the  loins),  and  their  wild  physique. 
bearing  the  stamp  of  a  mysterious  intrepidity,  I  could 
not  help  but  think  of  the  prophet  as  he  ran  across  the 
plain  to  Jezreel,  his  long  hair  and  belted  blanket  stream¬ 
ing  in  the  air,  as  the  black  clouds  were  rapidly  rolling 
after  him  from  the  sea.  1  Kings  18  :  46. 

The  brooks  of  Kedron,  Kishon,  Eshcol,  and  most 

others  alluded  to  in  the  Bible,  only  contain  water  during 

the  freshets  of  the  rainy  seasons.  Sometimes  you  meet 

a  clear  streamlet  on  the  shady  mountain-side,  but  as  soon 

as  you  reach  the  plain,  where  “it  is  hot,”  the  water 

gradually  soaks  away  until  there  is  nothing  left.  In 

winter,  when  little  needed,  they  are  generally  full  and 

loud  with  promises,  but  when  the  hot  and  dry  season 

comes,  and  man  and  beast  need  them,  “  what  time  they 

*  •> 

wax  warm,  they  vanish.”  When  summer  droughts  parch 
the  earth,  the  Bedouin  vainly  hopes  to  water  his  fields 
with  their  contents,  and  brings  his  thirsty,  bleating  flocks 
thither  only  to  find  them  empty.  Even  this  Kishon  in 
the  winter  is  a  broad,  rapid,  roaring  stream,  clear  up  to 
34 


398 


CARMEL  FAVORED. 


Mount  Tabor,  whilst  in  the  summer  it  is  dry  till  within  a 
few  miles  from  the  sea. 

“  My  brethren  have  dealt  deceitfully  as  a  hrooTcy 
And  as  the  stream  of  brooks  they  pass  away ; 

Which  are  blackish  by  reason  of  the  ice, 

And  wherein  the  snow  is  hid ; 

What  time  they  wax  warm,  they  vanish: 

When  it  is  hot,  they  are  consumed  out  of  their  place. 

The  paths  of  their  way  are  turned  aside ; 

They  go  to  nothing  and  perish/^ 

Job.  6  :  15-18. 

I  can  easily  see  why  Isaiah  should  speak  of  the  “  ex¬ 
cellency  of  Carmel.”  Isaiah  35  :  2.  True,  the  oak  trees 
are  somewhat  dwarfed,  and  are  not  so  large  and  numer¬ 
ous  as  those  we  have  just  passed  coming  from  Nazareth; 
but  its  ascent,  except  on  the  north-west,  is  not  steep. 
Even  now  its  gradual  slopes  are  covered  with  grassy 
glades,  still  inviting  the  flocks  to  pasture  as  in  the  days 
of  Micah,  who  figuratively  alludes  to  it  in  a  prayer  for 
Israel :  “  Feed  thy  people  with  thy  rod,  the  flock  of  thy 
heritage,  which  dwell  solitarily  in  the  wood  in  the  midst 
of  Carmel.''  Micah  7  : 14.  From  this  it  would  seem  that 
it  was  not  much  inhabited  then.  There  are  now  some 
ten  or  eleven  Moslem  and  Druse  villages  on  and  around 
it.  Another  allusion  of  Amos  indicates  that  its  pastures 
were  not  liable  to  wither,  except  by  special  judgments: 
“The  habitations  of  the  shepherds  shall  mourn,  and  the 
top  of  Carmel  shall  wither.”  Amos  1 :  2.  There  are  no 
longer  any  vineyards  on  Carmel ;  (the  name  in  the  He¬ 
brew  means  vineyard).  I  can  well  conceive,  however, 
why  this  range  of  lofty  slopes,  which  meet  the  first  rays 
of  the  rising  sun,  should  have  been  selected  by  King  Uz- 
zlah  for  vineyards,  who  had  “  vinedressers  in  the  moun¬ 
tains  and  in  Carmel."  2  Chron.  26  :  10.  Its  ravines  and 


TENTS  ON  HOUSE-TOPS. 


399 


rock-caves  still  offer  hiding  places,  for  which  it  was  an¬ 
ciently  famous :  Though  they  dig  into  hell,  thence  shall 
my  hand  take  them ;  though  they  climb  up  to  heaven, 
thence  will  I  bring  them  down ;  and  though  they  hide 
themselves  in  the  top  of  Carmel,  I  will  search  and  take 
them  out  thence.”  Amos  9  :  2,  3.  Jeremiah  swears  by 
it,  showing  in  what  esteem  it  was  then  held  :  ^‘As  I  live, 
saith  the  King,  whose  name  is  the  Lord  of  hosts,  surely 
as  Tabor  is  among  the  mountains,  and  as  Carmel  by  the 
sea,  so  shall  he  come.”  Jer.  46  : 18. 

After  crossing  the  Kishon  we  rode  along  the  foot  of 
Mount  Carmel  toward  the  sea.  The  few  villages  which 
we  passed  were  along  the  rising  slopes  of  the  mountain 
base,  where  the  swelling  torrent  of  the  overflowing  river 
could  not  reach  them  in  the  winter.  On  some  house-tops 
were  tents  or  booths,  made  of  leafy  tree-branches.  In 
pleasant  weather  the  people  spend  much  of  their  time  on 
the  flat  roofs  of  their  dwellings,  to  breathe  the  fresh  air, 
and  enjoy  the  prospect  of  the  world  without.  During 
the  summer  they  even  sleep  there.  To  shield  them  from 
the  rays  of  the  burning  sun  they  put  up  these  leafy  tents, 
just  as  the  Jews  did  who  had  returned  from  their  Baby¬ 
lonian  captivity.  “  So  the  people  went  forth  and  brought 
them  [branches],  and  made  themselves  booths,  every  one 
upon  the  roof  of  his  house,  and  in  their  courts,  and  in 
the  courts  of  the  house  of  God.”  Neh.  8  :  15,  16. 

We  continued  in  the  plain  to  the  sea-shore,  and  there 
passed  through  the  town  of  Caipha,  and  ascended  the 
mountain,  through  olive  groves,  to  the  convent.  It 
stands  on  the  western  end  of  Carmel,  which  here  forms 
a  promontory  in  the  sea.  After  passing  through  an  arched 
gateway,  we  dismounted  before  the  massive  building, 
where  one  of  the  monks  received  us  with  apparent  cordi- 


400  INVOLUNTARY  IMPRISONMENT. 


ality.  In  a  cool  but  sparingly  furnished  room,  he  poured 
upon  us  a  stream  of  welcomes  and  friendly  inquiries, 
which  would  have  received  a  worthy  reply  had  not  my 
French  failed  me. 

The  sirocco  had  blown  during  the  middle  of  the  day, 
producing  the  customary  languor  and  weariness.  After 
returning  to  the  room  assigned  us  for  lodging,  we  at 
once  sought  relief  by  sleep,  but  upon  waking  found  that 
the  monk  had  locked  us  in.  Shades  of  Anthony  !  To  be 
incarcerated  in  the  little  thick-walled  cell  of  a  monastery, 
and  made  an  involuntary  monk !  Here  too,  right  over 
the  cell  of  the  first  hermit,  Elijah  !  It  was  all  in  vain  to 
clatter  and  thump  against  the  heavy  cell  door,  in  this 
out-of-the-way  corner^  While  looking  out  on  the  sea 
through  the  heavy  iron  bars  which  grated  the  window, 
we  espied  a  German  pilgrim  in  the  court  below,  whom  I 
besought  most  earnestly  in  plain  German  to  come  to  our 
relief.  Soon  we  heard  the  welcome  steps  of  the  monk, 
who  unbarred  the  door,  and  of  course  made  a  penitent 
bow,  with  a  Pardon^  messieurs^'’  for  our  undesigned 
imprisonment. 

By  this  time  a  party  of  Austrian  and  Tyrolese  pilgrints 
had  arrived,  whom  we  had  met  before  ^at  Jerusalem 
and  the  Jordan.  Among  these  was  my  stern  friend,  who 
commanded  me  to  get  out  of  his  lamp  light  on  Calvary. 
This  party  of  pilgrims,  numbering  perhaps  some  twenty 
or  thirty,  visited  the  Dead  Sea  an  hour  after  we  left  it. 
While  there  they  noticed  a  party  of  Bedouin  robbers 
bearing  down  on  them,  and  making  an  efibrt  to  surround 
them.  A  venerable  priestly  father,  with  white  locks  and 
a  flowing  beard,  who  doubtless  had  measured  lances  in 
his  younger  days,  immediately  assumed  the  command  of 
his  brethren,  nearly  all  priests.  After  defiling  them  in 


A  MARTIAL  PRIEST. 


401 


battle  array,  with  their  swords,  guns,  and  pistols  in  hand, 
ready  for  fight,  he  drew  up  his  Arab  steed,  galloped  up 
and  down  along  the  line,  sword  in  hand,  and,  with  a  fierce 
stentorian  voice,  prepared  for  the  expected  conflict.  His 
prancing  steed,  seemingly  proud  of  his  hoary  rider, 
snuffed  the  air  in  disdain.  The  whole  reminds  one  of  the 
scene  between  the  Knight  of  the  Couchant  Leopard  and 
the  Saracen,  in  their  fearful  collision  near  this  spot, 
during  the  crusade  of  Richard  the  Lion-Hearted.  The 
father  showed  a  martial  pluck  and  skill  which  these  modern 
Barabbases  little  expected.  At  all  events  they  evaded 
an  attack  by  a  retreat.  Had  they  come  an  hour  sooner, 
the  result  might  have  been  different.  For  we  only  had  a 
small  escort  of  Turkish  soldiers,  who  are  generally  the 
first  to  run.  As  this  was  Friday,  we  had  to  content  our¬ 
selves  with  a  fast-day  dinner  at  the  Convent  of  Mount 
Carmel,  composed  chiefly  of  fish,  which,  after  such  a  busy 
day,  were  greatly  relished.  They  were  fresh  from  the 
sea  below  the  convent,  in  quality  faultless,  in  quantity 
barely  sufficient  to  feed  such  a  hungry  crew.  Under  the 
convent  is  a  cave,  converted  into  a  chapel,  where  Elijah 
is  said  to  have  found  shelter  after  he  had  slain  the  false 
prophets.  To  commemorate  this  event,  the  monastery 
was  built  on  this  spot.  In  the  morning,  before  we  left,  I 
descended  into  this  chapel,  and  found  one  of  the  German 
pilgrims  celebrating  mass,  and  my  friend,  the  Tyrolese 
peasant,  whom  I  had  met  on  Olivet,  swinging  the  incense 
before  the  altar.  The  cave  is  like  many  others  on  this 
and  other  mountains,  which  may  be  as  old  as  Carmel 
itself.  The  priest  muttering  mass,  and  the  wan  pilgrims 
kneeling  quietly  on  the  damp  floor  of  the  dark  cavern  ;  the 
earnest  simple  peasant  bowing  and  crossing  himself  as  he 

served  the  priest,  and  all  this  on  Carmel,  made  my  heart 
* 


402 


ACRE. 


fill  up.  Protestant  as  I  was,  I  knelt  me  down  and  poured 
out  the  desires  and  burdens  of  a  thankful  heart  in  my 
own  way. 

The  convent  is  on  the  western  shoulder  of  Carmel, 
about  600  feet  above  the  sea.  One  never  wearies  look¬ 
ing  at  this  Mediterranean.  Here  was  the  highway  of 
ancient  commerce  between  Phoenicia,  Syria,  Canaan, 
and  Egypt,  all  in  sight  of  this  mountain.  All  gone 
now.  Only  a  few  white  sails  in  the  distance,  and  an 
Austrian  steamer  down  there  in  the  harbor  of  Caipha, 
which  has  touched  here  to  take  the  German  pilgrims  on 
board.  To  the  north  of  this  is  the  white  sandy  sea-coast 
of  Acre  shimmering  in  the  sun,  of  which  we  are  allowed 
to  have  only  this  distant  glimpse.  From  this  “heated 
sandy”  tract  it  derives  its  name.  The  plain  which  con¬ 
tains  it  is  about  twenty  miles  long,  and  becomes  fertile 
as  it  recedes  from  the  sea.  It  is  the  Accho  which 
belonged  to  the  tribe  of  Asher,  whose  dominion  extended 
northward  along  the  coast  to  Sidon.  Judges  1  :  31. 
Joppa,  Caipha  (right  below  us),  and  Acre,  were  the  three 
ancient  harbors  of  Palestine.  It  is  the  Ptolemais  where 
Paul  “saluted  the  brethren  and  abode  with  them  one 
day,”  on  his  last  land  journey  to  Jerusalem.  Acts  21  ;  7. 
On  account  of  its  peculiar  situation,  Napoleon  I.  called 
it  “  the  Keystone  of  the  East.”  This  has  made  it  the 
central  point  of  attack  to  all  invaders  of  Palestine  for 
thousands  of  years.  It  has  so  often  been  battered  into 
ruins,  that  only  the  shadow  of  the  ancient  Acre  remains. 

These  convents  are  a  very  convenient  arrangement  to 
entertain  travellers  in  countries  where  there  are  no 
hotels.  Of  late  years  a  few  so-called  hotels  have  been 
opened  in  Jerusalem,  during  the  travelling  season.  But 
outside  of  this  there  are  none  in  all  Palestine.  Travellers 


EASTERN  CONVENTS. 


40S 


either  lodge  in  their  own  tents  or  in  convents  ;  occasion¬ 
ally  one  procures  accommodations  in  a  private  house. 
Natives  of  the  East  usually  lodge  in  khans  or  caravan- 
sarai,  made  of  a  high  wall,  with  a  strong  gate,  which  is 
locked  after  night.  Men,  women,  and  children,  and  beasts 
of  burden,  lodge  promiscuously  together  in  the  same 
apartment,  each  bringing  their  food,  and  sometimes  their 
provender,  with  them.  But  convents  can  supply  travel¬ 
lers  with  all  they  need,  and  the  monks,  especially  these, 
are  models  of  entertaining  urbanity.  And  all  is  done 
and  given  without  pay,  except  what  their  guests  may 
choose  to  give  them  in  the  form  of  alms.  The  buildings 
are  massive  piles  of  masonry,  and  sometimes  have  high 
walls  around  them.  In  fact  many  are  fortresses,  which, 
like  feudal  castles,  are  intended  to  afford  shelter  in  times 
of  war.  When  marauding  Bedouin  tribes  sweep  over  the 
country,  the  affrighted  helpless  natives  often  find  a 
refuge  within  the  walls  of  convents.  Thus  they  have 
become  the  modern  cities  of  refuge  to  the  people  of  God. 

Of  course,  their  primary  object  is  to  afford  a  home  to 
recluses,  who  wish  to  withdraw  entirely  from  the  world, 
and  give  themselves  wholly  to  a  life  of  meditation,  fast¬ 
ing,  and  prayer.  I  have  seen  nothing  in  these  two  con¬ 
vents  at  Nazareth  and  Carmel  to  impress  me  unfavorably 
of  their  personal  habits.  As  they  are  much  frequented 
by  travellers,  the  monks  spend  no  little  time  and  labor 
in  “serving  tables.”  But  I  cannot  think  any  the  worse 
of  their  piety  for  serving  their  fellow-sinners  in  this  way. 
How  much  progress  they  make  in  the  divine  life,  and 
how  far  their  motives  and  zeal  are  pure  and  Christian,  I 
cannot  judge.  These  Carmelite  monks  are  certainly 
the  most  intelligent  and  refined  monastics  I  have  ever 
met.  After  enjoying  their  disinterested  hospitality,  and 


404 


ELIJAH  AND  ELISHA. 


seeing  nothing  in  their  conduct  hut  what  accorded  with 
the  character  of  gentlemen,  I  do  not  feel  called  upon  to 
invent  blemishes  in  their  practice,  or  rehash  the  oft-told 
tales  of  monkish  corruptions.  I  think,  however,  that 
they  might  serve  their  Maker  better  in  some  other  sphere  ; 
i*or  I  have  little  taste  for  a  beneficence  which  is  disso¬ 
ciated  from  human  sympathy  and  wme,  albeit,  accord¬ 
ing  to  their  opinion,  Elijah  was  a  recluse,  —  the  most 
ancient  one  —  who  set  the  first  example  of  a  hermit-life. 
It  is  true,  he  fled  from  the  haunts  of  men  to  Beersheba 
and  Horeb ;  but  God  sent  him  back  into  the  busy  world 
again,  to  do  his  little  share  of  work  among  his  fellow- 
men.  1  Kings  19  :  15,  16. 

Mount  Carmel  may  have  been  the  theatre  of  events 
which  were  greater  in  the  eyes  of  the  world ;  but  none 
have  stamped  it  with  such  immortal  memories,  as  the 
visits  and  acts  of  Elijah  and  Elisha.  Doubtless,  both 
spent  much  time  here  of  which  the  Bible  says  nothing. 
May  not  “  the  top  of  an  hill  ”  on  which  Elijah  sat,  when 
the  men  of  Ahaziah  found  him,  have  been  somewhere  on 
Carmel  ?  2  Kings  1  :  9.  How  would  the  Shunammite 
have  known  that  Elisha  was  on  “Mount  Carmel,”  when 
her  boy  died,  had  not  that  been  a  place  of  resort  to  him  ? 
Great  men  stamp  their  glory  on  all  they  touch.  Though 
dead,  they  live  in  the  theatres  of  their  deeds  while  the 
world  stands.  Abraham  and  Beersheba,  Moses  and  Mount 
Sinai,  Elijah  and  Carmel,  are  inseparable.  The  name 
of  one  calls  up  the  name  of  the  other. 

After  spending  part  of  the  morning  on  the  terrace  or 
roof  of  the  convent,  looking  at  the  changeless  sea,  and 
at  some  of  the  cities  and  scenes  along  its  coast,  and 
meditating  upon  their  marvellous  history,  we  prepared 
to  depart.  The  Prior  pressed  our  hands  with  a  cordial 


IHE  HAKT  OF  THE  BIBLE. 


405 


adieu,  and  we  turned  our  faces  once  more  toward  Naza¬ 
reth.  Going  down  the  mountain  we  met  lovely  roses 
and  other  flowers  growing  wild.  Birds,  too,  of  gaudy 
plumage  flew  and  warbled  among  the  old  olives  of  Car¬ 
mel’s  slopes. 

Beyond  the  Kishon  we  started  several  gazelles,  pos¬ 
sibly  on  their  way  to  the  river  in  search  of  water.  So 
they  did  when  David  compared  his  longing  for  the  living 
God  to  the  hart  panting  for  the  water  brooks.”  Psalm 
42:1.  In  the  Bible  they  are  spoken  of  under  the  names 
of  harts,  roes,  and  hinds.  How  gracefully  and  timidly 
they  leap  over  the  plain  !  sometimes  hounding  like  a  hare. 
The  gazelle  was  a  favorite  of  Solomon,  doubtless,  on 
account  of  its  pure,  innocent,  and  cleanly  habits.  They 
were  affectionate  withal ;  for  Jeremiah  shows  the  severity 
of  an  impending  famine,  by  saying  that  even  the  hind 
forsook  its  young,  ‘‘because  there  was  no  grass.”  Jer. 
14  :  5.  Solomon  portrays  the  tender  love  of  Christ  to 
his  Church  by  the  gazelle  :  “  The  voice  of  my  beloved  ! 
behold,  he  cometh  leaping  upon  the  mountains,  skipping 
upon  the  hills.  My  beloved  is  like  a  roe,  or  a  young  hart.” 
Song  of  Sol.  2  :  8,  9.  They  mostly  spend  their  days 
among  the  hills,  and  after  night  they  steal  down  to  the 
plains,  and  feed  on  the  rich  grass,  mixed  with  lilies,  until 
the  day  dawns  and  the  shades  of  night  disappear.  “  He 
feedeth  among  the  lilies.  Until  the  day  break,  and  the 
shadows  flee  away,  turn,  my  beloved,  and  be  thou  like  a 
roe  or  a  young  hart  upon  the  mountains  of  Bether.” 
Song  of  Sol.  2  :  17.  They  are  timid  beings  —  the  slight¬ 
est  noise  or  rustling  among  the  leaves  will  start  them. 
While  cropping  grass  or  leaves,  they  often  stop  to  look 
and  listen  for  danger.  Therefore  he  charges  the  daugh¬ 
ters  of  Jerusalem,  by  the  roes  and  by  the  hinds  of  the 
Add,  “  not  to  stir  up  nor  awake  his  love,  till  he  please-” 


406 


THE  EAGLE  AND  ITS  YOUNG. 


Song  of  Sol.  3  :  5.  Fifty  miles  north-east  of  this  is  the 
land  of  Naphtali,  where  the  nimble-footed  gazelles  still 
abound  to  this  day.  Jacob  says  of  him :  ‘‘  Naphtali  is 
a  hind  let  loose.”  Gen.  49  :  21.  He,  doubtless,  referred 
to  the  wild,  fleet.  Bedouin  character,  which  this  tribe  was 
to  acquire  on  these  rough  mountain  heights  of  northern 
Galilee.  Eastern  poets  compare  thein  fair  ones  to  the 
coy  gazelle,  with  its  charming  hazel  eyes  and  timid  mod¬ 
esty,  that  comes  by  night,  and  steals  a  passage  into  their 
hearts,  to  pasture  upon  their  affections.  The  gazelle  is 
about  as  large  as  a  small  American  deer,  and  their  meat 
is  considered  quite  a  dainty  by  travellers. 

How  plaintively  the  voice  of  the  cuckoo  sounded  in  the 
deeply  shaded  oak  forest  of  Jezreel !  And  eagles  soared 
high  in  the  air,  in  a  way  wonderful  even  to  Solomon. 
Prov.  30  :  19.  How  God  makes  these  eagles  preach  ! 
They  have  more  to  say  in  the  Bible  than  any  other  bird, 
and  say  it  so  wisely  and  well  too.  Unclean  animal  as 
they  were  (Lev.  11  :  13),  they  are  not  without  use  in 
the  world.  Saul  and  Jonathan  were  swifter  than  the 
eagle  in  his  flight.  2  Sam.  1  :  23.  They  have  a  strange 
method  to  teach  their  young  to  fly.  They  are  generally 
awkward  and  clumsy  before  they  are  fledged,  and  for  a 
long  while  refuse  to  venture  out  of  their  lofty  nest  into 
the  air.  Finally  the  parent,  thinking  it  time  that  they 
should  launch  out  upon  the  air,  pitches  into  the  brood, 
as  if  to  throw  them  out,  and  in  their  fright  and  fear,  lest 
they  might  drop  to  the  earth,  they  climb  on  the  extended 
wings  of  the  old  eagle,  which  flies  aloft  with  this  burden 
of  affection,  to  give  them  lessons  in  flying.  So  God 
taught  the  Hebrews,  who  had  been  stripped,  by  Egyptian 
bondage,  of  faith  and  moral  strength,  dealing  with  them 
as  with  helpless  children.  ‘‘As  an  eagle  stirreth  up  her 
nest,  fluttereth  over  her  young,  spreadeth  abroad  her 


HABITS  OF  THE  EAGLE. 


407 


wings,  taketli  them,  beareth  them  on  her  wings;  so  the 
Lord  alone  did  lead  him  and  there  was  no  strange  god 
with  hHn.”  Dent.  32  :  11-12.  Or  as  Goldsmith  has 
it,  in  his  beautiful  description  of  a  faithful  pastor : 

“And  as  a  bird  each  fond  endearment  tries, 

To  tempt  its  new-fledged  offspring  to  the  skies ; 

He  tries  each  art,  reproves  each  dull  delay. 

Allures  to  brighter  worlds,  and  leads  the  way.’^ 

‘‘Ye  have  seen  what  I  did  unto  the  Egyptians,  and  how 
I  bare  you  on  eagles’  wings,  and  brought  you  unto  ray- 
self.”  Ex.  19  :  4.  Among  the  tall  cliffs  of  Edom,  Judea, 
and  Lebanon,  you  often  see  their  “  nest  on  high.”  Job 
39  :  27—28.  You  watch  her  poised  high  in  mid-hea¬ 
ven,  like  a  speck  floating  in  sunlight.  Even  from  that 
height  she  sees  the  smallest  lamb,  kid,  or  gazelle,  and 
spirally  descends  round  and  round,  then  abruptly  makes 
the  fatal  plunge,  head  foremost,  with  wings  closed,  and 
bears  it  off  to  her  nest. 

“  Doth  the  eagle  mount  up  at  thy  command. 

And  make  her  nest  on  high? 

She  dwelleth  and  abideth  on  the  rock, 

Upon  the  crag  of  the  rock,  and  the  strong  place. 

From  thence  she  seeketh  the  prey. 

And  her  eyes  behold  afar  off. 

Her  young  ones  also  suck  up  blood: 

And  where  the  slain  are,  there  is  she.^^ 

Job,  39  :  27-30. 

They  live  to  a  very  old  age,  strong  and  hale  with  the 
vigor  of  youth.  So  the  faithful  have  their  youth  “re¬ 
newed,  like  the  eagles.”  Psalm  103  :  5.  “They  that 
wait  upon  the  Lord  shall  renew  their  strength  ;  they  shall 
mount  up  with  wings  as  eagles.”  Isaiah  40  :  31.  Sud¬ 
denly  as  an  eagle  pounces  upon  his  prey,  the  Lord  visits 
the  transgressions  of  his  people.  Hosea  8  :  1. 


408 


EVENING  AT  NAZARETH. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


€Iib  JnmB  0{  llarj  anil  ]ftx 


After  our  arrival  at  Nazareth,  I  again  climbed  up 
the  hill  to  enjoy  another  evening  prospect.  In  holy 
places  the  wish  to  be  alone  is  irresistible.  Alone  I  was, 
and  yet  not  all  alone,  for  solitude  is  sometimes  the  best 
society.  Groups  and  lines  of  women  came  out  to  the 
well  with  water-pots  on  their  heads,  for  water.  A  few 
white  tents  were  among  the  olives  at  the  edge  of  the  town, 
belonging  to  some  of  our  friends  who  had  just  arrived. 
Softly  the  sun  sank  toward  the  sea.  The  shadow  of 
\  the  hill  crept  over  Nazareth.  It  became  longer  and 
longer,  across  the  dale,  up  the  hills  on  the  other  side. 
Then  the  birds  set  up  such  a  thousand-piped  warbling  as 
I  have  never  heard.  The  herdsmen  came  down  the  hill¬ 
sides  toward  home  with  their  herds.  Of  a  sudden  all 
was  quiet,  as  if  by  the  bidding  of  a  magician’s  wand. 
Here  was  the  home  of  Jesus.  The  valley,  the  hills,  the 
sea,  the  sky,  the  stars,  all  then  as  now.  And  these  He 
saw.  And  here  He  felt  as  other  boys  feel;  had  a 
mother  whom  He  loved,  and  who  loved  Him,  who  felt  as 
mothers  feel,  fed  Him  as  mothers  feed,  and  patted  Him 
as  her  dear  child,  though  a  divine  boy.  0  what  hopes 
Mary  nurses,  what  blessings  she  prepares  for  the  world  — 
for  us !  Here  I  sit  beside  the  grave  of  a  Mohammedan. 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  SACRED  SCENES.  409 


Poor  being  !  be  knew  not  the  boy  of  Nazaretb.  But  for 
the  darkness  I  would  fain  sit  here  till  morning.  Up 
there  is  the  silvery  new  moon,  a  thin  crescent  with  a  star 
hanging  over  its  horns,  just  like  the  device  on  the  Turk¬ 
ish  banner.  Out  over  the  dark  sea  a  faint  gleam  of  light 
lingers  in  the  western  sky.  There  is  my  dear  America, 
my  home.  The  home  of  Jesus,  my  earthly  home,  and 
home  in  heaven  ! 

“0  Jesus,  conduct  me  to  heaven,  my  home!” 

Afril  26^4,  1857.  —  The  next  day  was  the  Sabbath. 
Early  in  the  morning  we  repaired  to  the  church  of  the 
Annunciation,  where  a  small  congregation  was  already 
engaged  in  worship.  The  organ  tones  sounded  sweetly 
and  familiarly,  like  those  of  the  fatherland.  A  choir  of 
boys  chanted  hymns  of  praise.  At  10  A.  M.  we  wor¬ 
shipped  with  some  English  friends,  who  read  the  Episcopal 
service  in  their  tent.  The  Litany  impressed  me  with  new 
and  solemn  force.  God  is  nigh  unto  all  who  call  upon 
him,  and  yet  spots  consecrated  by  the  life  and  suffering 
of  our  Saviour,  seem  nearer  the  Divine  Being  than  any 
others.  Some  may  call  it  superstition,  but  my  first 
thoughts  at  places  which  I  felt  were  not  invested  with 
fictitious  sacredness,  impelled  me  to  meditation  and 
prayer.  On  Mount  Zion,  in  sight  of  Gethsemane,  Cal¬ 
vary,  and  Olivet,  it  was  easy  to  follow  with  a  devout 
heart  and  tongue  the  petitions  of  the  Litany :  “  By 
Thine  Agony  and  bloody  Sweat;  by  Thy  Cross  and 
Passion ;  by  Thy  precious  Death  and  Burial ;  by  Thy 
glorious  Resurrection  and  Ascension  ;  and  by  the  Coming 
of  the  Holy  Ghost,  Good  Lord  deliver  us.”  And  here 
in  this  frail  tent  at  Nazareth  we  prayed :  By  the  mys¬ 
tery  of  Thy  Holy  Incarnation,  Good  Lord  deliver  us.” 

35 


410 


A  SUFFERING  MISSIONARY. 


The  population  of  Nazareth  is  prevailingly  Christian, 
composed  of  different  sects,  which  are  unfavorable  to 
missions.  The  few  attempts  of  Protestant  missionaries 
have  thus  far  proved  fruitless  here.  In  the  afternoon 
I  went  with  a  Scotch  friend  to  visit  Mr.  Zeller,  a  Ger¬ 
man  missionary  in  the  employ  of  the  Church  of  England 
Missionary  Society.  On  the  steep  ascent  of  the  hill 
rising  above  the  town,  stood  a  small  stone  edifice  alone, 
with  a  few  little  improvements  around  it,  showing  marks 
of  a  European  taste.  Entering  the  little  elevated  dwell¬ 
ing,  we  found  a  pale  young  man,  reclining  on  a  plain 
couch,  in  a  room  almost  devoid  of  furniture,  suffering 
with  a  bilious  attack.  He  had  no  family ;  a  turbaned 
Nazarite  was  his  only  attendant  and  nurse,  and  he  him¬ 
self  his  only  physician.  Far  from  his  kindred,  in  this 
lonely  place,  with  this  solitary  stranger  for  his  companion, 
I  watched  his  quick  breath  and  fevered  brow,  beyond 
the  reach  of  the  soothing  hand  of  affection,  with  emotions 
of  pity  and  sadness,  and  tried  to  speak  words  of  comfort 
to  his  sad  heart. 

He  had  been  in  the  East  but  a  vear  or  two,  and  had 
not  fully  mastered  the  language.  He  said  he  had  but  a 
few  hearers  in  a  little  private  room,  and  these  were 
cruelly  persecuted ;  and  that  his  stammering  efforts  to 
preach  in  a  foreign  tongue,  furnished  poor  hopes  of 
getting  a  larger  audience.  Mohammedans  and  Christian 
sects  were  doing  all  they  could  to  embarrass  him  and 
embitter  his  trials.  I  felt  sad  to  part  from  him,  fearing 
that  he  would  soon  follow  the  large  band  of  missionaries 
who  have  fallen  victims  to  the  trials  and  climate  of  the 
East.  After  my  return  home,  I  learned  of  his  recovery 
through  a  German  European  paper,  in  whose  columns  I 
also  found  the  following  dreary  picture  of  Palestine  from 


I 


AN  IMPUDENT  THIEF. 


411 


his  pen,  which  I  have  translated  for  the  benefit  of  the 
reader : 

“Although  I  have  been  in  Palestine  but  a  short  time, 
I  could  fill  a  volume  with  shocking  cases  of  oppression, 
misery,  and  crime  of  every  kind,  which  have  come  to  my 
ears.  What  I  have  seen  within  two  weeks,  on  a  journey 
from  Nazareth  to  Jerusalem,  and  on  my  return,  may  suf¬ 
fice  to  give  an  idea  of  the  present  state  of  things  in 
Palestine.  On  my  way  to  Jerusalem,  I  visitjed  a  Coptic 
Christian,  who  told  me  that  four  head  of  cattle  were 
stolen  from  him  the  previous  night  by  persons  whom  he 
recognized.  While  we  were  speaking  of  this  matter,  the 
leader  of  the  thieves  entered  the  door  in  broad  daylight, 
and  demanded  a  considerable  amount  of  ransom  money 
to  deliver  the  stolen  cattle.  The  owner,  although  the 
Secretary  of  the  Governor  of  Jenin,  who  has  at  his  com¬ 
mand  a  pretty  large  number  of  mounted  soldiers,  did  not 
venture  to  arrest  him,  and  found  that  the  only  way  to 
get  back  his  cattle  would  be  to  pay  the  ransom  money. 
The  Government,  with  all  its  retinue  of  satellites,  fears 
the  robbers  more  than  the  robbers  fear  the  Government. 

“  I  passed  a  hill-side,  planted  with  thriving  young  fig- 
trees,  which  presented  a  pitiful  aspect.  All  the  trees 
had  been  cut  down.  This  is  the  usual  way  in  which  the 
quarrelling  parties  take  revenge  on  each  other,  without 
being  punished  for  it.  The  district  of  Nablous  (Shechem) 
is  constantly  harassed  and  buffeted  by  wars  bet^/een  twm 
contending  parties,  aspiring  to  grasp  the  reins  of  govern¬ 
ment.  Stopping  at  another  place  to  water  my  horses,  I 
was  accosted  by  a  farmer,  with  torn  garments  and  a 
bleeding  face,  begging  me  to  procure  for  him  the  protec¬ 
tion  of  a  European  consul,  otherwise  his  foes  would  not 
rest  until  they  had  killed  him,  as  he  could  not  expect 


412 


THE  SCOURGE  OF  PALESTINE. 


protection  from  the  Turkish  Government.  On  my  return 
from  Nahlous,  my  travelling  companions,  having  lingered 
behind  the  party,  were  attacked  by  a  hand  of  robbers, 
who  pelted  my  friends  with  stones,  and  cried  to  their 
companions  to  surround  them.  They  escaped  narrowly 
with  their  lives. 

“  In  Nahlous  I  found  a  Protestant  from  the  neighboring 
village  of  Raphidim,  who,  with  five  other  families,  was 
compelled  to  abandon  his  house,  property,  and  village, 
to  escape  the  intolerable  extortion  of  Bedouin  chiefs  and 
of  the  Government.  When  I  travelled  through  the 
Valley  of  Jezreel,  the  aspect  of  this  beautiful  plain  was 
alive  with  the  black  tents  of  Bedouins.  To  these  plun¬ 
dering  tribes  we  owe  it,  that  this  loveliest  plain  of  Pales¬ 
tine  is  strewn  with  ruined  villages.  In  the  spring  they 
come  up  from  the  Jordan,  with  their  herds,  and  graze  off 
what  the  farmers  have  sown  along  the  edge  of  the  plain; 
and  for  those  parts  not  eaten  up  by  the  herds,  the  owners 
must  pay  a  heavy  sum  of  ransom  money  to  the  Bedouin 
chiefs.  The  Turkish  Government  is  deaf  to  the  com¬ 
plaints  of  these  distressed  farmers,  and  their  cries  for 
relief.  And,  what  is  still  worse,  it  exacts,  with  a  merci¬ 
less  hand,  fixed  and  arbitrary  taxes ;  and,  should  the 
oppressed  peasants  find  it  difficult  to  pay  them,  the  sol¬ 
diers  of  the  Pasha  will  prove  more  relentlessly  cruel  than 
the  Bedouins. 

‘‘  I  will  give  the  following  as  a  specimen.  Recently  a 
large  quantity  of  costly  silks  was  stolen  from  a  travelling 
merchant,  out  of  the  public  inn  at  Nazareth.  Through 
the  intervention  of  the  consuls  at  Jerusalem,  the  authori¬ 
ties  of  Nazareth  were  compelled  to  institute  an  investi¬ 
gation.  A  suspected  person,  blind  from  his  youth,  was 
arrested,  and  was  bastinadoed  with  four  hgndred  stripes 


TURKISH  OPPRESSIOxY, 


418 


Afterward  it  was  discovered  that  the  Turkish  Judge 
was  the  chief  in  the  robbery,  who  had  only  used  the 
blind  man  as  his  tool.  The  Judge  remained  perfectly  at 
ease,  though  he  was  aware  that  others  knew  him  to  be  a 
party  in  the  matter.  The  people  expressed  no  surprise 
that  the  Judge  retained  the  stolen  goods,  for  they  have 
long  ago  become  accustomed  to  such  conduct. 

“One  of  our  people  in  Jaffa  (Joppa)  is  at  present 
involved  in  a  very  unpleasant  lawsuit.  A  young  Moham¬ 
medan  fell  into  a  well,  and  was  killed.  His  relatives 
now  allege  that  a  member  of  our  congregation  has  killed 
him,  and  demand  his  blood,  —  which  means,  that  one  of 
his  family  must  die  for  the  murdered  man.  It  has  been 
clearly  proven  that  the  accused  was  far  away  from  the 
well  at  the  time  the  matter  occurred.  All  seem  to  be 
convinced  that  the  relatives  of  the  dead  man  only  desig¬ 
nate  this  poor  man  as  the  murderer,  with  a  view  to  extort 
money  for  his  release.  They  now  incessantly  threaten 
to  kill  him  and  his  whole  family.  He  had  a  thriving 
young  olive  orchard,  worth  about  1000  florins  ($400), 
which  they  hewed  down  for  him.  They  surrounded  his 
house  in  Joppa  of  a  night,  and  fired  bullets  into  the  walls 
and  doors.  At  length  he  found  himself  compelled  to  pay 
300  florins.  After  this  appeared  a  wretched  Bedouin, 
not  in  the  least  related  with  the  deceased,  and  threatened 
to  avenge  his  blood.  Neither  the  Government  nor  the 
consuls  have  power  to  check  these  persecutions. 

“  Becently  our  school  teacher,  Elias  Essaptar,  in  Cefer 
Cana,  was  asked  by  the  Judge  of  Nazareth,  how  he  could 
presume  to  instruct  a  Mohammedan  in  the  Christian  reli¬ 
gion.  Elias  replied :  ‘  The  man  asked  me  himself  to 
instruct  him.’  Whereupon  the  Judge  threatened  to  plunge 
the  teacher  and  his  pupil  into  the  direst  misfortune,  if 


414 


EFFECTS  OF  MISRULE. 


they  would  venture  to  speak  a  word  together  in  the  future. 
The  Vice-Consul  of  Caipha,  being  present,  reminded  the 
Judge  of  the  religious  freedom  which  Hati  Scherif  had 
promised  to  them.  To  which  one  of  the  other  judges 
replied  :  ‘  If  the  Sultan,  Abdul  Medschid,  would  attempt 
to  fulfil  this  promise,  he  would  be  driven  from  his 
throne.’ 

“  These  examples  will  give  a  partial  conception  of  the 
shocking  corruption  which  has  spread  over  Palestine. 
One  can  readily  imagine  how  all  the  baser  passions  must 
have  unbridled  scope  under  the  rule  of  such  an  Ungovern¬ 
ment  ;  how  truth  and  right  are  trampled  under  foot ; 
and  how,  as  a  cons'equence,  misery  increasingly  prevails 
among  the  poor  modern  inhabitants  of  ‘  the  Land  of 
Promise.’  And,  alas  !  in  other  parts  of  the  Turkish  Em¬ 
pire  matters  are  not  much  better.  Here  one  must  think 
of  the  word  of  the  Lord  (Isaiah  1 :  6,  7) :  ‘  From  the  sole 
of  the  foot  even  unto  the  head  there  is  no  soundness  in 
it ;  hut  wounds  and  bruises  and  putrifying  sores ;  they 
have  not  been  closed,  neither  hound  up,  neither  mollified 
with  ointment.  Your  country  is  desolate  ;  your  cities 
are  burnt  with  fire ;  your  land,  strangers  devour  it  in, 
your  presence,  and  it  is  desolate,  as  overthrown  by 
strangers.’  ” 

Jerusalem  inspires  one  with  awe  —  Nazareth,  with  ten¬ 
der  sympathy.  There  the  manhood  of  Christ  is  continu¬ 
ally  brought  to  your  mind  —  the  wisdom,  wrestling,  and 
suffering  of  His  mature  years.  But  here  you  see  the 
child  and  the  youth  everywhere.  Climbing  the  hills, 
sitting  at  the  fountain,  strolling  through  the  streets  and 
lanes  of  Nazareth,  every  aspect  and  feature  of  the  dale 
calls  to  mind  the  child  which  Joseph  and  Mary  brought 
hither  from  Egypt.  Matt.  2  :  23.  Here  he  “  was  sub- 


CHILDHOOD  OF  JESUS. 


415 


ject  unto  them,”  and  ‘increased  in  wisdom  and  stature 
and  in  favor  with  God  and  man.”  Luke  2  :  51,  52. 
Children  at  play  suggest  the  question,  whether  He  like¬ 
wise  thus  mingled  with  the  youth  of  His  kind.  A  few 
hoys,  kneeling,  said  their  prayers  in  the  church,  with 
great  apparent  devotion,  and  kept  me  thinking  all  the 
while  of  Jesus,  who  was  taught  His  prayers  by  His  mother 
in  an  adjoining  chamber.  The  tender  years  and  con¬ 
fiding  dependence  of  childhood  are  calculated  to  soften 
the  most  stolid  temperament,  and  shy  isolated  natures 
are  often  taken  captive  by  the  artless  caresses  of  an 
infant.  The  hearts  of  children  are  more  accessible  to  us 
than  those  of  more  advanced  life.  So  Jesus  appeared 
to  me  at  Nazareth.  In  Gethsemane  and  on  Calvary,  I 
approached  Him  with  a  sense  of  dread,  mingled  with 
awe ;  here,  with  a  gentle,  sympathizing  love,  like  that 
of  a  younger  to  an  “  elder  brother.”  As  one  takes  a 
melancholy  pleasure  to  look  at  a  hat  or  coat  of  a 
deceased  brother,  or  at  something  he  has  made,  loved,  or 
handled,  so  I  looked  at  the  moon  and  the  stars  from  the 
house-top ;  at  the  hills,  and  the  lambs  and  kids  skipping 
over  them,  and  all  seemed  holy  mementoes  and  memorials 
of  the  Child-God. 

The  Bible  says  but  little  of  the  early  history  of  our 
Saviour  at  Nazareth.  His  return  “  into  Galilee,  to  their 
own  city  Nazareth,”  after  “  they  had  performed  all  things 
according  to  the  Law  of  the  Lord,”  (Luke  2  :  39) ;  His 
visit  to  Jerusalem  when  He  was  twelve  years  of  age, 
from  here ;  and  His  coming  from  Galilee  to  Jordan 
unto  John  to  be  baptized”  (Matt.  3  :  13,)  are  the  only 
allusions  to  his  early  home.  He  dwells  here  in  mysteri¬ 
ous  solitude,  as  ‘‘ that  Holy  Thing”  which  the  angel  had 
announced,  and  by  his  spotless  celestial  life,  grows  “  in 


416 


FOUNTAIN  OF  THE  VIRGIN. 


favor  ”  with  the  townspeople  and  those  of  thp  neighbor* 
hood.  Joseph  and  Mary  teach  Him  the  law,  as  all  Jew¬ 
ish  parents  taught  their  children,  but  He  soon  knew 
more  than  they.  When  at  twelve  years  of  age  He  tells 
his  mother  of  being  “  about  His  Father’s  business  ”  she 
understood  not  the  saying.  And  when  afterwards  He 
revisits  His  own  city.  His  divine  wisdom  excites  the  envy 
of  His  fellow  townsmen.  They  could  see  no  reason  why 
the  son  of  Mary  and  Joseph,  the  hard-working  carpenter, 
himself  a  carpenter,  should  know  any  more  than  they. 
He  received  and  needed  the  same  training  and  treatment 
as  other  boys,  and  they  were  familiar  with  ‘‘  his  breth¬ 
ren  ”  and  ‘‘his  sisters.”  They  remembered  the  history 
of  the  dependent  helpless  boy,  now  grown  into  a  prophet, 
and  exclaimed  with  amazement :  “  Whence  hath  this  man 
this  wisdom,  and  these  mighty  works  ?  ” 

On  the  outskirts  of  Nazareth  is  a  spring  called  the 
“  Fountain  of  the  Virgin.”  Hither  the  Nazarene  maidens 
resort  for  water.  Every  day  during  two  hours  after  sun¬ 
rise,  and  two  hours  before  sunset,  the  path  emerging  out 
of  the  narrow  street  leading  to  this  fountain,  in  a  green 
park-like  meadow  at  the  north-west  of  the  town,  is  alive 
with  picturesque  groups  of  females,  bearing  water-pots 
on  their  heads.  Twice  I  sat  me  down  upon  a  stone  near 
by  to  study  the  fashions  and  forms  of  the  “  city  of  Gali¬ 
lee,”  once  the  house  of  that  illustrious  “  virgin  whose 
name  was  Mary.”  Sometimes  a  few  dozen  would  crowd 
around  the  fountain  which  discharged  its  crystal  waters 
into  a  stone  trough  There  was  only  room  for  one  pot 
at  a  time,  causing  delay  to  some.  As  one  after  another 
stepped  out  of  the  little  crowd  with  her  burden,  others 
would  step  in  without  any  perceptible  impatience ;  mean¬ 
while  the  waiting  ones  innocently  chattering  like  friendly 


EASTERN  FEMALES. 


417 


swallows,  perhaps  over  village  news  or  fond  lovers,  such 
as  young  Joseph  once  had  been. 

Whoever  has  been  to  the  East,  knows  how  lorn  and 
lonely  the  world  looks  where  woman’s  unveiled  face  is 
wanting.  Walking  through  the  crowded  streets  of  Cairo, 
Alexandria,  and  Jerusalem,  I  stole  an  occasional  glimpse 
when  their  veils  were  slightly  drawn  aside  during  conver¬ 
sation  with  a  friend  whom  they  chanced  to  meet.  But 
their  tatooed  half-vacant  faces  always  lacked  the  charm 
divine.  Only  female  travellers  are  admitted  into  harems, 
in  which  the  reputed  beauty  of  the  East  is  caged.  Some 
of  my  female  friends  brought  me  reports,  stating  that 
some  of  the  newly  inducted  slaves  were  pretty,  and  not 
without  an  expression  of  innocence  and  purity;  but  the 
treatment  which  they  receive  soon  robs  them  of  every 
native  charm.  The  Arab  w'omen  really  seem  but  a 
step  above  the  brute.  Their  half-veiled  faces  are  most 
repulsive  ;  and  their  native  uncomeliness  is  increased  by  the 
barbarous  custom  of  tattooing  the  chin  and  forehead, 
and  painting  their  eyelids  black,  as  Jezebel  did,  (2  Kings 
9  :  30,  which  in  the  original  reads,  ‘‘painted  her  eyes.”) 
So  too  in  Ezekiel  23  :  40.  Their  garments  were  un¬ 
washed,  the  hair  uncombed,  and  their  persons  filthy  and 
disgusting  in  the  extreme. 

They  are  treated  as  an  inferior  class  of  beings.  In 
Egypt  murder  committed  under  palliating  circumstances 
can  be  atoned  for  by  a  fine.  The  fine  for  killing  a  woman 
is  only  half  as  much  as  that  for  killing  a  man,  showing 
that  they  are  estimated  at  only  half  the  value  of  the 
stronger  sex.  An  Arab  treats  his  wife  with  less  respect 
than  his  horse.  He  can  kiss,  caress,  and  embrace  him 
with  the  most  passionate  fondness,  pity  and  moan  for 
him  when  he  is  sick,  lament  and  weep  over  his  death, 


t 


418 


WOMEN  IN  PALESTINE. 


while  his  poor  wife  rarely  receives  any  such  marks  of 
affection.  After  he,  his  children,  and  his  slaves  have 
eaten,  then  she  is  allowed  to  enjoy  what  is  left. 

Thus  when  I  reached  Nazareth  my  mind  had  been 
well  prepared  to  recognize  and  appreciate  something 
better  in  woman.  Here,  for  once,  she  takes  her  place 
in  the  home-circle,  walks  forth  with  unveiled  face  in  open 
day,  brings  water  from  the  fountain  to  cook  and  wash, 
and  seems  busy  and  cheerful  in  her  proper  sphere.  Her 
face  even  shows  how  much  she  is  elevated  above  her  other 
sisters  in  the  East.  Here  she  seems  another  being.  She 
has  a  fair  skin,  slightly  brunette  complexion,  features 
well  rounded,  eyes  dark,  dreamy,  and  gentle,  sometimes 
hazel  like  the  gazelle’s,  her  hair  black  as  a  raven,  dang¬ 
ling  in  long  and  graceful  locks,  loosely  over  her  shoul¬ 
ders,  while  her  whole  face  glows  with  a  chaste  and  cheerful 
earnestness. 

Most  of  them  look  mysteriously  thoughtful  and  con¬ 
templative.  Whilst  watching  their  water-pots,  filling  up 
under  the  flowing  fountain,  their  minds  seemed  to  wander 
elsewhere,  as  if  pondering  like  their  prototype,  the  Virgin 
Mary,  on  some  great  hope  in  their  hearts.  Some  had  a 
string  of  coins  wreathed  around  the  head  as  ornaments  or 
marks  of  wealth,  and  a  head-cloth,  from  which  hung  a 
long  scarf  about  six  inches  wide,  reaching  in  some  cases 
almost  to  their  heels.  A  heavy  scarf  or  small  shawl  of 
rich  damask,  green  or  red,  was  folded  somewhat  care¬ 
fully  round  the  waist,  and  their  feet  thrust  in  loose  slip¬ 
pers,  with  another  string  of  coins  encircling  the  ankles. 
Their  whole  dress  was  the  most  tidy  and  picturesque  of 
any  I  have  seen  in  the  East.  They  evidently  never 
forgot  their  toilette  before  they  came  forth  for  water ; 
and  yet  they  seemed  to  be  wholly  ignorant  of  their 
charms. 


THOUGHTS  ON  THE  VIRGIN. 


419 


Having  had  to  see  so  much  of  the  dark  side  in  the 
character  and  position  of  woman  in  the  East  in  my  pre¬ 
vious  journey,  may  partly  account  for  this  favorable  im¬ 
pression  ;  but  I  must  be  pardoned  for  saying  that  I  have 
never  in  any  land  or  city  looked  on  the  like  of  these 
Nazarene  maidens.  Many  pleasant  thoughts,  too,  I  had 
while  observing  them  at  their  cheerful  tasks.  Methought 
the  Virgin  must  have  looked  like  this  or  that  one ;  or 
perhaps  possessed  in  charming  combination  the  blended 
graces  of  all.  Possibly,  very  probably,  like  these  she 
used  to  come  out  to  this  fountain  for  water,  along  with 
others  of  her  age,  who  little  dreamed  that  she  was  to  be¬ 
come  the  Mother  of  our  Lord,  whom  all  generations 
should  call  blessed.  And  then  afterward  she  came  with 
her  water-pot,  and  a  little  thoughtful  boy  running  by  her 
side,  plucking  her  garment  and  calling  her  ‘‘mother,” 
watching  the  fountain  as  it  poured  out  with  ceaseless 
flow,  wondering  where  it  all  came  from ;  perhaps  still  un¬ 
conscious  that  He  was  the  fountain  opened  in  the  house 
of  David  for  the  salvation  of  perishing  millions.  Mary’s 
face  too  must  have  looked  thoughtful  and  half-sad,  as  she 
pondered  over  the  mysterious  incidents  connected  with 
her  child,  as  still  she  looks  in  Raphael’s  great  painting 
at  Dresden.  Every  spot  around  the  fountain  was  familiar 
to  her  eyes ;  and  with  these  grounds  and  groves  her 
“wonderful”  son  became  equally  familiar. 

Leaving  ITazareth  the  next  morning,  we  rode  out  by 
the  fountain,  where  we  again  met  a  busy  group  filling 
their  water-pots,  doubtless  just  such  pots  as  were  used  at 
the  wedding  of  Cana,  not  far  from  here.  I  handed  them 
my  gutta-percha  pocket-cup,  to  get  a  last  draught  of  its 
pure  water,  which  they  passed  through  the  little  crowd, 
and  returned  it  with  as  much  frankness  and  graceful 


420 


ADIEU  TO  NAZARETH. 


courtesy,  as  if  they  had  been  educated  in  Europe  or 
America.  As  we  were  turning  away  from  them  I  asked 
Ahmed,  “  Why  are  these  maidens  of  Nazareth  so  much 
prettier  than  your  women  in  Egypt?”  He  replied  some¬ 
what  earnestly,  and  as  if  surprised  at  my  ignorance  : 

0  don’t  you  know  that,  my  master?  This  was  the 
home  of  the  Virgin  Mary.”  Moslem,  thou  hast  truly 
spoken,  I  thought  to  myself.  An  unconscious  compliment 
to  the  influence  of  Christianity  in  the  elevation  of  woman. 
From  all  that  I  have  heard  and  seen  in  the  East,  I  am 
more  convinced  than  ever  that  no  religion  can  so  elevate 
and  bless  woman  as,  Christianity. 

After  reaching  the  top  of  the  hill  which  was  to  hide 
this  enchanting  dale  forever  from  our  eyes,  we  turned 
our  horses  and  took  a  last  solemn  view  of  this  little 
mountain  basin,  in  whose  protecting  embrace  the  Re¬ 
deemer  of  the  world  was  nursed  and  trained,  and  then 
rode  off  toward  Mount  Tabor.  Our  path  led  over  hills 
and  across  grassy  glens,  without  a  village  or  inhabitant. 
About  six  miles  from  Nazareth  we  reached  the  foot  of 
Tabor.  Trees  are  scattered  over  the  slopes  circling  its 
base,  and  beyond  these  its  ascent  is  covered  with  a  green 
sward  to  the  top.  It  is  a  most  singular,  isolated,  oblong 
mountain,  rising  alone  out  of  the  plain  of  Jezreel,  con¬ 
nected  with  the  mountain  range  of  Galilee  by  a  narrow 
neck  of  rising  ground.  Its  height  is  about  1800  feet 
above  the  Mediterranean,  and  TOO  above  Nazareth.  Our 
horses  labored  for  about  an  hour  up  the  winding  path. 
The  area  of  the  top  is  about  a  mile  in  diameter.  Over 
this  is  strewn  a  confused  mass  of  ruins,  of  churches,  con¬ 
vents,  and  dwellings  of  different  periods  of  the  world. 
Trees,  thistles,  and  tall  rank  grass,  with  variegated  flow¬ 
ers,  grew  out  from  among  the  loose  stones  and  crumbling 
walls. 


TABOR. 


421 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


31  frnm  fabor  — ®jie  Sba  at  ®ibBrias. 


What  a  view  from  here !  Only  several  miles  south 
of  us,  at  the  foot  of  little  Hermon,  lay  the  small  village 
of  Endor,  where  the  witch  raised  Samuel  for  Saul.  West 
of  it  is  the  ‘‘  city  called  Nain,”  at  whose  gate  Christ 
raised  a  widow’s  only  son,  —  now  a  small  Arab  village. 
This  whole  charming  plain  of  Jezreel  spread  out  before 
us  like  a  panorama,  with  its  “  cities  ”  dwindled  down  to 
Arab  hamlets,  its  grass,  grain,  and  flowers  blending  into 
a  sea  of  soft  and  slightly  varying  colors,  here  and  there 
dotted  with  herds  and  herdsmen  reduced  to  a  mere  speck, 
—  the  whole  a  paradise  of  spontaneous  growth,  now 
populated  with  plundering  Arabs, 

“Where  every  prospect  pleases, 

And  only  man  is  vile. 

Immediately  below  us,  at  the  foot  of  Tabor,  a  tribe  of 
3000  Bedouin  warriors  were  encamped.  By  means  of  a 
spy-glass,  I  had  a  distinct  view  of  this  army  of  modern 
Ainalekites.  Their  noble,  neighing  war -steeds  were 
picketed  around  the  long,  black  tents,  with  the  spear  of 
his  master  stuck  in  the  ground  near  each  one.  A  few 
cattle  and  camels  were  grazing  around  the  tents.  They 
pretended  to  prepare  for  battle  with  another  tribe,  but 
36 


422 


RAVAGES  OF  THE  ARABS. 


their  real  mission  was  to  plunder  the  fields  of  Galilee. 
The  harvest  is  beginning  to  ripen,  and  these  Ishmaelites 
have  come  from  the  Arabian  Desert  to  rob  the  poor 
fellahins  of  their  crops.  These  are  the  plundering  foes 
of  Palestine, — the  terror  of  the  ancient  Hebrews,  as  well 
as  the  scourge  of  its  present  inhabitants  —  who  annually 
repeat  their  foraging  invasions  in  some  form  or  other. 
The  Arab  peasants  scratch  up  the  rich  loamy  soil  of  the 
valleys,  and  sow  their  seed ;  but  when  their  much-needed 
crops  ripen,  the  bands  of  these  sons  of  Ishmael  and 
Amalek  stream  •up  from  the  wilderness,  like  swarms  of 
locusts,  destroy  their  harvests,  and  drive  off  their  herds 
and  flocks.  Thus  the  farming  tribes  of  Palestine  are 
often  brought  to  the  verge  of  starvation.  This  accounts 
for  the  fact,  that  so  large  a  part  of  this  beautiful  and 
fruitful  country  lies  unimproved  and  uncultivated.  It  is 
the  old  feud  between  Ishmael  and  Isaac — between  Jacob 
and  Esau,  which  has  blighted  the  Land  of  Promise  for 
thirty  centuries. 

So  the  land  was  scourged  in  the  days  of  Gideon. 
“  Because  of  the  Midianites,  the  children  of  Israel  made 
them  the  dens  which  are  in  the  mountains,  and  caves  and 
strongholds,”  in  which  to  hide  their  grain  and  seek 
shelter.  “And  so  it  was,  when  Israel  had  sown,  that  the 
Midianites  came  up,  and  the  Amalekites,  and  the  chil¬ 
dren  of  the  East,  even  they  came  up  against  them,  and 
destroyed  the  increase  of  the  earth,  till  thou  come  unto 
Gaza ;  and  left  no  sustenance  for  Israel,  neither  sheep 
nor  ox  nor  ass.  For  they  came  up  with  their  cattle  and 
their  tents,  and  they  came  as  grasshoppers  for  multitude; 
for  both  they  and  their  camels  were  without  number ; 
and  they  entered  into  the  land  to  destroy  it.”  Judges  6. 
The  two  chiefs  or  Sheikhs  of  those  Bedouin  warriors, 


THE  MIDIANITES  AND  AMALEKITES.  428 

“  Zeba  and  Zalmunna,”  kings  of  Midian,  have  their  strik¬ 
ing  counterparts  in  modern  Bedouin  chiefs.  They  were 
arrayed  in  scarlet  or  purple  mantles,  riding  camels,  with 
chains  about  their  necks.  Judges  8  :  21-26. 

These  “  Midianites,  and  Amalekites,  and  the  children 
of  the  East,”  were  gathered  together,  and  went  over  and 
pitched  their  tents  in  the  Valley  of  Jezreel.  The  poor 
Israelites  were  in  great  terror  ;  for  they  had  neither  army 
nor  leader.  The  Jews  fled  to  the  mountains  and  upland  val¬ 
leys,  and  tried  to  hide  their  harvests.  Gideon,  a  valiant 
son  of  Manasseh,  threshed  his  father’s  wheat  by  stealth, 
at  his  wine-press,  where  the  angel  of  the  Lord  appeared, 
and  called  him  “a  mighty  man  of  valor.”  Then  he 
“sent  messengers  throughout  all  Manasseh;  who  also 
was  gathered  after  him ;  and  he  sent  messengers  unto 
Asher,  and  unto  Zebulon,  and  unto  Naphtali,  and  they 
came  up  to  meet  him.”  Judges  6  :  33-35.  He  and  his 
men  were  encamped  over  there  on  Mount  Gilboa,  near  a 
spring  of  water;  and  down  toward  the  Jordan,  the  Midian- 
ite  multitude  spread  over  the  green  earth.  Gideon  had 
collected  an  army  of  thirty-two  thousand  men ;  but,  that 
the  power  of  God  might  be  more  signally  shown,  this 
number  is  reduced  to  three  hundred.  One  night,  he 
takes  a  servant  with  him,  and  comes  down  into  the  plain, 
where  the  enemy  “  lay  along  in  the  valley,  like  grass¬ 
hoppers  for  multitude,  and  their  camels  were  without 
number,  as  the  sand  by  the  sea-side,”  at  the  western  end 
of  Jezreel.  The  thousands  of  Bedouins  were  stretched 
on  the  earth,  wrapped  in  unconscious  slumbers,  sweetened 
by  the  weariness  of  their  plunders  on  the  previous  day. 
As  Gideon  softly  treads  along  the  edge  of  the  encamp¬ 
ment,  one  of  the  Midianites  is  startled  from  his  sleep  by 
a  singular  dream,  which  he  at  once  relates  to  a  companion 


424 


THE  PHILISTINES . 


near  him,  in  the  hearing  of  Gideon ;  in  this  he  at  once 
discerns  a  favorable  divine  omen.  He  bounds  off  to  Gil- 
boa,  rallies  his  three  hundred  select  followers,  who,  with 
blazing  torches,  filling  the  dark  air  with  lights  of  lurid 
glare,  rushed  down  upon  their  slumbering  foes.  The 
trumpets  were  blown,  and  the  shout  of  Israel,  terrible 
“as  the  shout  of  a  king,”  reverberated  over  the  plain, 
in  the  dead  hush  of  midnight.  Confusion  and  a  pande- 
monial  noise  ensued,  so  peculiar  to  the  Arab  race,  “and 
the  Lord  set  every  man’s  sword  against  his  fellow,  even 
throughout  all  the  host.”  They  fled;  and  Gideon  pur¬ 
sued  them  across  the  Jordan,  far  into  their  own  desert, 
and  destroyed  the  army,  with  the  two  chiefs,  Zeba  and 
Zalmunna.  It  was  a  grand  victory,  long  after  sung  by 
psalmists  and  prophets  in  strains  of  sweetest  poetry. 
Judges  6  and  7. 

The  Philistines  had  been  twice  defeated  in  the  moun¬ 
tains  of  Judea.  The  third  time,  they  came  up  along  the 

sea-shore,  and  lured  the  army  of  Saul  out  of  their  moun- 
*  •/ 

tain  passes  into  “the  valley  of  Jezreel.”  “The  Philistines 
gathered  together  all  their  armies  to  Aphek ;  and  the 
Israelites  pitched  by  a  fountain,  which  is  in  Jezreel.” 
1  Sam.  29  :  1.  About  thirty  minutes  east  of  the  present 
village  of  Jezreel  there  still  is  a  large  fountain,  emptying 
into  a  basin,  —  with  w’ater  of  crystal  clearness  —  forty 
or  fifty  feet  in  diameter,  containing  a  large  number  of 
small  fishes.  As  water  was  necessary  for  “  a  garden  of 
herbs,”  and  this  being  the  only  never-failing  fountain  in 
the  neighborhood,  perhaps  the  vineyard  which  Ahab  vio¬ 
lently  wrested  from  good  Naboth  was  near  here ;  for  it 
was  “hard  by  the  palace  of  Ahab,  King  of  Samaria.” 
1  Kings  21  :  1. 

This  view  from  Tabor  embraces  the  whole  arena  of 


THE  WITCH  OF  ENDOR. 


425 


battle.  On  a  clear  hazeless  day,  even  the  fountain  of 
Jezreel  is  seen,  dazzling  in  the  sun.  From  the  slopes 
of  Gilboa,  Saul  had  a  distant  view  of  all  the  Philistine 
host  encamped  around  Shunem,  and  when  he  saw  them 
‘‘  he  was  afraid  and  his  heart  greatly  trembled.”  Samuel 
had  died,  and  Israel  had  no  other  Judge  or  prophet  to 
consult.  Saul  inquired  of  the  Lord,  but  received  no 
answer  on  account  of  his  sins.  In  Eastern  countries 
there  were  then,  as  there  still  are,  many  superstitious 
people  who  consulted  witches,  persons  who  professed  to 
have  intercourse  with  the  spirit  world,  to  obtain  a  know¬ 
ledge  of  future  events.  Saul  thought  he  had  destroyed 
or  banished  all  these,  according  to  the  law  of  Moses. 
Deut.  18  :  10.  To  this  day  a  number  of  caves  remain  in 
the  rocks  of  the  little  Hermon,  around  Endor.  In  one 
of  these  a  witch  who  had  escaped  had  her  concealed 
abode.  In  his  extremity  he  inquired  for  “  a  woman  that 
hath  a  familiar  spirit,”  and  his  servants  referred  him  to 
the  witch  of  Eudor.  A  low  mountain  ridge,  one  of  the 
eastern  roots  of  Hermon,  hid  it  from  the  view  of  Saul, 
who  was  some  five  or  six  miles  ofi*.  In  coming  here  he 
must  pass  the  Philistines.  He  lays  aside  his  royal  robe 
and  puts  on  common  clothing,  so  that  the  witch  and  his 
enemies  should  not  recognize  him ;  then  mounts  his 
beast,  and  with  two  men,  under  the  cover  of  night  crosses 
the  ridge  not  far  from  the  Philistine  encampment,  and 
seeks  an  interview  with  this  woman  in  the  cave.  The 
result  so  disheartened  him,  ‘Ghat  there  was  no  strength 
in  him.”  The  different  localities,  Shunem,  Endor  and 
Gilboa,  all  but  the  first  seen  from  Tabor,  so  distinctly 
point  out  the  sev'eral  parts  of  this  thrilling  drama  in 
Hebrew  history,  that  one  almost  fancies  to  see  the  reality 
again  transpiring  before  him.  1  Sam.  28. 

36* 


426 


COOKING  IN  THE  EAST. 


Witch  as  she  was,  the  woman  possessed  the  virtue  of 
primitive  hospitality.  The  narrative  gives  us  an  idea  of 
the  culinary  skill  in  the  Orient.  She  had  a  fat  calf  in 
her  cave,  which  she  speedily  killed,  and  baked  unleavened 
bread.  No  time  to  raise  the  dough  here.  The  Arabs 
are  expert  bakers.  A  very  few  moments  will  suffice  to 
mix  a  few  handsful  of  unbolted  wheat  or  barley  with 
water,  work  it  into  a  large  flat  cake  and  bake  it  on  coal 
ashes.  But  to  kill  a  calf  and  prepare  it  for  Saul,  when 
their  interview  must  already  have  been  protracted  till 
past  midnight,  cannot  be  so  easily  done  acccording  to 
established  rules  of  killing  and  cooking.  In  Eastern 
countries  the  people  do  not  waste  so  much  precious  time 
to  gratify  the  physical  man,  as  in  those  of  the  West.  I 
was  often  surprised  to  see  with  what  little  time  and  cere¬ 
mony  our  Mohammed  and  the  Bedouins  would  despatch 
and  cook  a  sheep.  In  Cincinnati,  we  are  told,  they  drive 
hogs  in  at  one  end  of  a  narrow  entry,  and  they  come  out 
at  the  other  in  the  form  of  hogsheads  of  lard,  sausages, 
bacon,  and  ham.  But  these  Bedouins,  without  slaughter 
houses  and  butchering  apparatus,  are  not  a  whit  behind 
the  most  skillful  American  pork  establishments.  A  calf 
or  sheep  is  driven  into  the  tent,  and  in  a  time  incredibly 
short,  it  turns  up  on  a  large  tray  in  the  form  of  stewed 
veal  or  mutton,  buried  in  half  a  bushel  of  cracked  wheat, 
or  boiled  rice.  This  art  was  equally  understood  in  Old 
Testament  times.  When  Abraham  entertained  his  three 
angel  visitors,  he  ‘‘  ran  unto  the  herd,  and  fetched  a  calf 
tender  and  good,”  and  told  Sarah  meanwhile,  “  quickly 
make  ready  three  measures  of  fine  meal,  knead  it,  and 
make  cakes  upon  the  hearth.”  The  calf  was  handed  to 
a  young  man  ‘‘  who  hasted  to  dress  it.”  Gen.  18  ;  1-7. 
While  the  angelic  guest  of  Gideon  was  waitirg  “under 


DEATH  OF  SAUL  AND  JONATHAN.  427 


the  oak,”  he  went  “and  made  ready  a  kid,  and  unleav¬ 
ened  cakes  of  an  ephah  of  flour :  the  flesh  he  put  in  a 
basket,  and  he  put  the  broth  in  a  pot  and  brought  it  out 
unto  him  under  the  oak.”  Judges  6  :  19.  In  like  manner 
the  witch  of  Endor,  when  the  night  had  already  been  far 
spent,  and  her  royal  guest  seemed  impatient  to  hurry  to 
the  field  of  battle,  “  hasted  and  killed  it,  and  took  flour 
and  kneaded  it,  and  did  bake  unleavened  bread  thereof.” 
1  Sam.  28  :  24. 

The  next  day  came  the  battle.  Israel  fled  before  the 
Philistines  up  to  the  heights  of  Gilboa,  where  a  large 
part  of  them  were  slain.  From  where  we  stand  a  spec¬ 
tator,  with  the  aid  of  a  spy-glass,  could  have  seen  the 
whole  sad  tragedy.  Saul  and  Jonathan  fell.  A  roving 
Amalekite,  like  his  modern  Bedouin  countrymen,  who 
wander  and  prowl  over  Gilboa,  chanced  to  see  the  dying 
king,  and  at  his  own  request,  put  an  end  to  his  sufferings, 
and  brought  his  crown  and  bracelet  to  David.  Then  the 
royal  singer  bewailed  the  death  of  Saul  and  Jonathan  in 
that  plaintive  dirge,  which  will  continue  to  evoke  soothing 
tears  from  bereaved  hearts  so  long  as  the  Bible  will  be 
read  by  a  mourning  mortal.  ' 

“The  beauty  of  Israel  is  slain  upon  thy  high  places; 

How  are  the  mighty  fallen! 

•  ••••••« 

Saul  and  Jonathan  were  lovely  and  pleasant  in  their  lives, 

And  in  their  death  they  were  not  divided: 

They  were  swifter  than  eagles, 

They  were  stronger  than  lions. 


How  are  the  mighty  fallen  in  the  midst  of  the  battle  I 
0  Jonathan,  thou  wast  slain  in  thine  high  places. 


i28  BETH-SHAN — JABESH-GILEAD. 

I  am  distressed  for  thee,  my  brother  Jonathan: 

Very  pleasant  hast  thou  been  unto  me: 

Thy  love  to  me  was  wonderful, 

Passing  the  love  of  women 

2  Sam.  1. 

On  a  spur  of  Mount  Gilboa,  overlooking  the  Jordan 
and  the  valley  of  Jezreel,  is  the  modern  village  of  Beisan, 
once  the  city  of  Beth-shan.  1  Sam.  31  :  10.  It  was  a 
stronghold  of  the  Canaanites,  which  the  Israelites  had 
never  yet  taken.  Hither  the  triumphant  Philistines 
brought  the  dismembered  body  of  Saul.  They  hung  him 
and  his  three  sons,  to  the  city  wall,  and  dedicated  his 
armor  to  the  Canaanite  idol  Astarte,  in  whose  temple 
they  placed  it. 

On  the  hills  of  Gilead,  beyond  the  Jordan,  was  Jabesh- 
Gilead,  a  town  which  Saul  had  once  delivered  out  of  the 
hands  of  the  Ammonites.  1  Sam.  11  :  1-11.  The  tidings 
of  their  deliverer’s  death  filled  them  with  grief.  Then 

arose  all  the  valiant  men  [of  Jabesh-Gilead],  and  took 
away  the  body  of  Saul,  and  the  bodies  of  his  sons,  and 
brought  them  to  Jabesh,  and  buried  their  bones  under 
the  oak  in  Jabesh,  and  fasted  seven  days.”  1  Chron. 
10  :  12.  There  they  remained  until  David  removed  them 
to  the  “country  of  Benjamin  in  Zelah,  in  the  Sepulchre 
of  Kish,”  Saul’s  father.  2  Sam.  21  :  12-15. 

For  twenty  years  Jabin  King  of  Canaan  had  “mightily 
oppressed  the  children  of  Israel.”  He  was  a  powerful 
monarch,  having  “nine  hundred  chariots  of  iron.”  At 
length  he  sent  his  general,  Sisera,  completely  to  subjugate 
Israel,  who  brought  his  chariots  and  warriors  into  this 
plain  right  below  us,  between  Tabor  and  Hermon,  several 
miles  in  width.  It  was  just  such  an  encampment  as  that 
of  the  3000  Bedouins  we  see  here  now,  only  much 


OVERTHROW  OF  SISERA. 


429 


larger.  From  remote  antiquity  the  top  of  Mount  Tabor 
was  used  as  a  stronghold.  The  Romans  built  castles  on 
it,  surrounded  by  walls,  whose  ruins  are  still  here.  It 
was  a  position  hard  to  tiike,  which,  like  the  pass  of  Ther¬ 
mopylae,  enabled  a  small  army  to  worry  and  discomfit  a 
host  of  assailants.  Deborah  and  Barak  quickly  gathered 
10,000  men  from  the  two  nearest  tribes,  Zebulon  and 
Naphtali,  and  pitched  on  Tabor.  When  Sisera  would 
not  venture  to  storm  the  top,  the  prophetess  said  to 
Barak,  “  Up ;  for  this  is  the  day  in  which  the  Lord  hath 
delivered  Sisera  into  thine  hand.”  “  So  Barak  went 
down  from  Mount  Tabor,  and  ten  thousand  men  after 
him.  And  the  Lord  discomfited  Sisera,  and  all  his 
chariots,  and  all  his  host,  with  the  edge  of  the  sword, 
before  Barak.”  Judges  4.  It  must  have  been  in  winter 
or  early  spring,  when  the  Kishon  here  was  very  high ; 
for  “  it  swept  them  away,  that  ancient  river,  the  river 
Kishon.”  The  slaughter  was  so  great  that  this  stream 
must  have  run  red  with  blood  to  the  sea.  Josephus 
says,  that  just  then  a  great  hail-storm  arose  and  the  sleet 
blew'  over  the  plain,  driving  full  into  the  faces  of  the 
Canaanites,  and  so  blinded  their  eyes  that  their  arrow's 
and  slings  w'ere  of  no  use  to  them.  The  river  suddenly 
rose  from  the  rain,  overflow'ed  its  bed,  dashed  through 
the  army  of  Sisera,  confused  the  horses  and  chariots,  and 
swept  off  the  living  and  the  dead.  In  a  highland  district 
of  Kadesh  a  tribe  of  Bedouin  Kenites,  who  Sisera  thought 
were  friendly  to  him,  had  pitched  their  black  tents. 
Leaping  from  his  chariot,  he  “  fled  away  on  his  feet  to 
the  tent  of  Jael,  the  wife  of  Heber  the  Kenite.”  While 
asleep  in  her  tent,  Jael  drove  a  nail  into  his  temples. 

The  last  Jewish  war  in  the  plain  of  Jezreel  was  that 
in  which  good  King  Josiah  w'as  slain.  Pharaoh-Necho, 


430 


A  BLOOD-STAINED  VALLEY. 


King  of  Egypt,  went  up  to  the  river  Euphrates,  against 
the  King  of  Assyria.  Passing  through  the  Valley  of 
Megiddo  (Jezreelj,  Josiah  came  out  to  fight  with  him, 
where  the  archers  shot  at  him,  and  he  was  sore  wounded. 
His  servants  put  him  in  his  second  chariot,  and  brought 
him  to  Jerusalem,  where  he  died,  and  was  buried  in  one 
of  the  sepulchres  of  his  fathers.  ‘‘And  Jeremiah  lamented 
for  Josiah ;  and  all  the  singing  men  and  singing  women 
speak  of  Josiah  in  their  lamentations  to  this  day.” 
2  Chron.  35. 

Since  then,  this  lovely  plain  has  repeatedly  been  crim¬ 
soned  with  human  blood.  During  the  Roman  Empire, 
Gahinus  and  Vespasian  fought  fiercely  here  wdth  the 
Jews.  After  them  came  the  sanguinary  battles  between 
Saladin  and  the  Crusaders ;  then  Bonaparte  slew  25,000 
Turks,  and  in  1832  many  thousand  Egyptians  fell  here 
in  battle.  Truly,  a  field  of  blood  ! 

Such  are  some  of  the  stirring  events  which  have  trans¬ 
pired  in  this  fairest  of  valleys.  The  wild  exuberance 
of  its  neglected  vegetation  shows  what  it  might  be  made 
by  labor  and  care.  It  was  the  portion  of  Issachar, 
(Joshua  19  :  18,)  lying  within  this  mountain  trough ; 
“  Issachar  is  a  strong  ass,  couching  down  between  two 
burdens  [mountains].”  Away  from  the  laborious,  hardy 
mountain  region  of  his  brethren,  he  lived  here  in  ease, 
depending  for  his  bread  upon  the  spontaneous  produc¬ 
tiveness  of  the  soil,  which  begot  in  him  an  effeminate  and 
servile  spirit.  “And  he  saw  that  rest  was  good,  and  the 
land  that  it  was  pleasant ;  and  bowed  his  shoulder  to 
bear,  and  became  a  servant  unto  tribute.”  Gen.  49  : 14, 
15.  When  David  ascended  the  throne,  Issachar  and  the 
two  neighboring  tribes,  Zebulon  and  Kaphtali,  presented 
him  with  gifts,  indicating  the  comparative  wealth  and 


ALLOTMENT  TO  THE  TRIBES. 


481 


productiveness  of  Jezreel.  “  They  brought  bread  on 
asses,  and  on  camels,  and  on  mules,  and  on  oxen ;  and 
meat,  meal,  cakes  of  figs,  and  bunches  of  raisins,  and 
wine,  and  oil,  and  oxen,  and  sheep  abundantly.”  1  Chron. 
12  :  40. 

It  is  remarkable,  what  a  knowledge  of  the.  geography 
of  Palestine  both  Jacob  and  Moses  evinced  in  blessing 
the  tribes.  Gen.  49  ;  Deut.  33.  Jacob  was  familiar  with 
many  parts  of  the  country;  but  Moses  had  never  set  bis 
foot  on  its  sacred  soil.  Judah’s  portion  was  in  Judea, 
abounding  with  grapes  and  grass.  And  hence  he  should 
“wash  his  garments  in  wine,”  and  his  teeth  should  be 
“  white  with  milk,”  like  that  flowing  from  the  full-uddered 
herds  grazing  on  his  pastoral  hills.  “  Zebulon  shall  dwell 
at  the  haven  of  the  sea”  (of  Galilee),  “an  haven  for 
ships.”  Asher’s  portion  extended  along  the  coast  of 
Tyre  and  Sidon,  whose  merchants  were  princes,  and  which 
furnished  royal  robes  to  the  rulers  of  the  earth  —  “  he 
shall  yield  royal  dainties.”  Naphtali,  on  the  grassy 
hills  of  Jordan,  “  is  as  a  hind  [gazelle]  let  loose.”  Joseph 
(half  the  tribe  of  Manasseh,  Joshua  17  :  5-11),  in  the 
charming  valley  around  his  father’s  well,  and  his  own 
grave,  shall  be  favored  with 

“  Blessings  of  heaven  above, 

Blessings  of  the  deep  [from  Jacob’s  well]  that  lieth  under, 
Blessings  of  the  breasts  and  of  the  womb.” 

The  hills  of  Gerizim  and  Ebal  yielded  him  grass  for  his 
flocks,  and  the  sun  and  moon  evoked  life  out  of  the  plain. 

“  And  for  the  precious  fruits  brought  forth  by  the  sun, 

And  for  the  precious  things  put  forth  by  the  moon. 

And  for  the  chief  things  of  the  ancient  mountains. 

And  for  the  precious  things  of  the  lasting  hills.” 


432 


THE  HILLS  OF  BAS  HAN. 


Benjamin  possessed  part  of  the  highlands  of  Judea  around 
Jerusalem,  including  the  city  itself,  to  the  Valley  of  Hin- 
nom,  on  the  west  of  it. 

“  The  beloved  of  the  Lord  shall  dwell  in  safety  by  him; 

And  the  .Lord  shall  cover  him  all  the  day  long, 

And  he  [the  Lord]  shall  dwell  between  his  shoulders/' 

The  “  shoulders”  of  Benjamin  here  are  Mount  Zion  and  the 
Mount  of  Olives ;  and  between  these  is  Moriah,  on  which 
the  temple  was  built,  —  God’s  favorite  dwelling-place. 

Both  the  Mediterranean  and  the  Sea  of  Galilee  were 
in  sight.  Deep  down  to  the  east  and  south  the  Jordan 
wound  its  way  along  its  crooked  mountain  channel,  with 
green  hills  and  dells  rising  from  its  banks.  The  green 
hills  of  Bashan,  the  possessions  of  Manasseh,  rose  and 
rolled  eastward — noble  hills,  covered  with  a  grassy  carpet, 
on  which  all  manner  of  cattle  still  find  pasture.  Deut.  4 : 
43  ;  Joshua  20  :  8  ;  21  :  27.  Strong  Bedouin  tribes  in¬ 
habit  these  mountains,  rich  in  cattle,  whmh  graze  in  vast 
herds  from  base  to  summit  —  large  oxen  and  powerful, 
like  the  enemies  of  David.  Psalm  22  :  12.  Its  rich 
pastures  are  often  alluded  to  by  the  prophets.  In  pre¬ 
dicting  Israel’s  future  prosperity,  he  “  shall  feed  on 
Carmel  and  Bashan.”  Jer.  50  :  19.  Thus  looked  these 
hills  when  Ezekiel  wrote  of  the  fatlings  of  Bashan  ” 
(Ezekiel  39  :  18) ;  when  Amos,  the  herdman  of  Tekoa, 
wrote  of  “  the  kine  of  Bashan  ”  (Amos  4:1);  and  when 
Micah  besought  God  to  feed  his  people  “  in  Bashan  ” 
(Micah  7  :  14).  Among  the  grassy  glades  and  glens  of 
Bashan  are  a  vast  number  of  deserted  towns  and  cities, 
adorned  with  all  the  beauties  of  Grecian  and  Roman  art, 
whose  walls  still  rise  in  mute  and  lonely  majesty,  with 


MOUNT  TABOR. 


433 


no  inliabiiant  but  the  wolf  and  the  hyena.  Many  of 
these  heaps  of  ruins  evidently  date  beyond  the  period  of 
the  Roman  Empire,  and  point  to  some  ancient  power¬ 
ful  people,  of  whose  history  everything  save  these  speech¬ 
less  remains  has  been  lost.  Seen  from  Tabor,  Bashan 
just  seems  such  a  land  as  sacred  poetry  would  delight  to 
dwell  on  —  a  land  of  moors  and  meadows,  of  running 
brooks  and  bleating  herds,  of  lowlands  and  uplands,  of 
hill  and  heath,  —  all  combining  qualities  which  led  Ma- 
nasseh  to  prefer  it  to  Canaan  itself.  This  region  beyond 
the  Jordan  belonged  to  Reuben,  Gad,  and  half  the  tribe 
of  Manasseh.  When  Moses  had  brought  the  children  of 
Israel  into  the  country  beyond  Jordan,  Reuben  and  Gad 
fell  in  love  with  this  district.  And,  having  a  very 
great  multitude  of  cattle,”  they  asked  Moses  and  Eleazar 
the  Priest  for  permission  to  choose  this  for  their  possession, 
saying,  it  is  a  land  for  cattle,  and  thy  servants  have 
cattle  ;  wherefore,  said  they,  if  we  have  found  grace  in  thy 
sight,  let  this  land  be  given  unto  thy  servants  for  a  pos¬ 
session,  and  bring  us  not  over  Jordan.”  Num.  32  :  1-5. 
The  half-tribe  of  Manasseh  received  for  their  portion  these 
hills  of  Gilead  and  Bashan.  Joshua  13:30;  17  : 1. 

Tabor  has  for  fifteen  hundred  years  been  regarded  as 
the  ‘‘high  mountain”  on  which  our  Saviour  was  trans¬ 
figured.  Matt.  17.  Luke  9.  Br.  Robinson  has  shaken  the 
faith  of  some  in  its  identity,  but  in  spite  of  his  plausible 
arguments,  I  must  still  cling  to  Tabor  as  the  Mount  of 
Transfiguration,  “  the  holy  mount  ”  to  which  Peter 
alludes.  2  Peter  1  :  18.  It  is  said  that  our  Lord  had 
just  been  at  Cesarea  Philippi,  (Matt.  16.)  and  that  he 
could  not  have  come  that  distance  to  Tabor  in  so  short  a 
time.  But  why  not  ?  “After  six  days  ”  the  transfigura¬ 
tion  occurred,  so  that  he  would  at  least  have  had  so 
.3'^  2  c 


434  ROBINSON'S  DOUBTS. 

many  days  to  come  hither.  Now  we  made  the  journey 
from  Tabor  to  Cesarea  Philippi  in  about  two  days  and 
three  quarters.  True,  we  travelled  on  horseback,  but 
only  rode  at  a  walk,  no  faster  than  an  ordinary  footman 
could  travel. 

It  is  furthermore  said  that  at  the  time  of  the  Trans¬ 
figuration,  a  fortified  town  crowned  the  top  of  Tabor, 
which  would  not  render  it  a  likely  place  for  our  Saviour 
to  select  for  such  a  solemn  transaction.  There  was  a 
town  on  the  top  218  years  before  Christ.  History  says 
nothing  whether  it  existed  at  the  time  of  Christ.  Jose¬ 
phus,  who  lived  during  the  middle  and  latter  half  of  the 
first  century,  speaks  of  a  battle  fought  here  between  the 
Romans  and  the  Jews,  in  which  ten  thousand  persons 
were  slain.  And  afterward  he  himself  caused  Mount 
Tabor  to  be  fortified.  He  caused  the  top  to  be  enclosed 
with  a  wall  in  forty  days,  bringing  the  water  and  ma¬ 
terials  for  it  from  below,  since  the  persons  living  on  it 
had  nothing  but  rain-water.  This  much  we  have  of  this 
city  on  Tabor,  and  nothing  more.  Robinson  says,  there 
“appears”  to  have  been  a  city  there.  For  any  argu¬ 
ment  that  history  or  conjecture  furnishes,  the  top  of 
Tabor  may  have  been  strewn  with  ruins  during  the  life 
of  our  Saviour,  just  as  it  now  is.  But  even  if  it  could  be 
proven  that  a  town  existed  there,  or  that  a  few  of  the 
buildings  were  inhabited,  could  not  the  Transfiguration 
have  happened  on  the  sloping  shaded  mountain  side,  on 
whose  lofty  glades  he  could  have  found  a  place  sufficiently 
retired  ?  Whatever  can  be  said  ag  ilnst  Tabor,  I  feel 
assured  that  more  can  be  said  against  Robinson’s  new 
site  of  the  Transfiguration  in  the  neignborhood  of  Cesarea 
Philippi. 

Although  Tabor  is  not  named  in  the  New  Testament, 


TABOR  AND  HER  MON. 


435 


our  L  rd  must  have  been  familiar  with  it.  But  six  miles 
from  Nazareth,  may  he  not  often  have  ascended  it  during 
his  sojourn  there?  for  he  was  fond  of  mountains.  About 
eighteen  miles  from  the  sea  of  Galilee,  Capernaum 
and  Bethsaida,  where  our  Lord  lived  and  taught  for  three 
years,  and  along  a  thoroughfare  of  travel  between  the 
northern  commercial  centre  of  Galilee,  and  Samaria,  and 
Judea,  his  eyes  became  familiar  with  every  feature  of 
Tabor  as  he  passed  and  repassed  it. 

Then  too  it  possesses  a  special  fitness  for  such  a  scene. 
On  account  of  its  extraordinary  beauty,  the  Psalmist 
alludes  to  it,  in  connection  with  Hermon,  as  the  two 
representatives  of  all  the  mountains  of  Palestine.  Tabor 
and  Hermon  shall  rejoice  in  thy  name.”  Psalm  89  :  12. 
Why  only  these  two  from  all  the  other  imposing  and  rare 
mountains  ?  Hermon  is  the  highest  and  TabCr  the  most 
graceful  of  all  the  mountains  in  this  land  of  lovely  moun¬ 
tains.  Herder,  in  his  Geist  der  Hebraischen  Poesie,” 
says  that  in  Deut.  33  :  19,  Tabor  is  intended  when  it  is 
said  that  Issachar  and  Zebulon  “  shall  call  the  people 
unto  the  mountain  ;  there  they  shall  offer  sacrifices  of 
righteousness.”  An  ancient  commentator  says  on  this 
passage,  that  it  is  the  mountain  on  which  the  Temple 
ought  of  right  to  have  been  built,  had  not  revelation  ex¬ 
pressly  ordered  it  to  be  built  on  Mount  Moriah.  As  it 
was  customary  for  idolaters  to  worship  in  high  places, 
the  priests  led  the  people  astray  on  this  high  place,  and 
thus  ‘‘spread  a  net  upon  Tabor.”  Hosea  5  :  1.  With 
Carmel,  Gilboa,  Bashan  and  the  grand  Hermon  looming 
up  pretentiously  in  the  distance,  and  the  little  Hermon 
as  its  sentinel,  it  rises  out  of  this  grassy  flowery  plain  in 
solitary  grandeur,  a  mount  of  matchless  beauty,  and  a  fit 


436 


ROBINSON’S  DOUBTS. 


Stage  for  heaven  and  earth,  the  natural  and  spirit  world, 
to  hold  an  interview. 

Thomson,  who  has  spent  twenty-five  years  in  Beirut, 
and  who  has  often  visited  Tabor,  says  in  his  excellent 
work,  entitled  ‘‘The  Land  and  the  Book;”  “No  more 
noble  or  appropriate  theatre  for  such  a  glorious  manifes¬ 
tation,  could  be  found  or  desired.  Nor  does  the  fact  that 
there  may  have  been  a  village  on  the  top  at  that  time, 
present  any  difficulty.  There  are  many  secluded  and 
densely-wooded  terraces  on  the  north  and  north-east 
sides,  admirably  adapted  to  the  scenes  of  the  Transfigura¬ 
tion.  I  have  been  delighted  to  wander  through  some  of 
them,  and  certainly  regretted  that  my  early  faith  in  this 
site  had  been  disturbed  by  prying  critics ;  and,  after 
reading  all  that  they  have  advanced  against  the  current 
tradition, 4  am  not  fully  convinced.” 

Though  doubting,  he  still  clings  to  Tabor.  Since  I 
have  seen  it,  and  seen  also  the  bleak  mountains  around 
Cesarea  Philippi,  it  has  fixed  its  image  and  history  in  my 
heart  and  mind,  and  in  spite  of  all  that  has  been  said  to 
the  contrary,  I  can  never  think  of  the  Transfiguration 
without  locating  it  on  this  beautiful  mountain.  Here,  in 
sight  of  Pisgah  and  Carmel,  and  in  the  presence  of  his 
three  favorite  disciples,  Moses  and  Elias  had  that  solemn 
interview  with  Christ,  and  “  spake  to  him  ”  of  his  decease 
which  he  should  accomplish  at  Jerusalem,  while  the 
Saviour’s  face  and  raiment  were  transfused  with  heavenly 
light  and  lustre.  Tradition  has  located  the  precise  spot 
of  the  manifestation  in  a  little  subterranean  cave  on  the 
top,  which  has  been  converted  into  a  chapel  with  an  altar. 
What  a  stage  from  w'hich  to  look  down  upon  a  bloody 
past,  with  the  Prince  of  Peace  at  one’s  side  !  Moments 
seemed  like  months,  as  act  after  act  passed  before  my 


A  RUINED  KHAN. 


43'’ 

view.  Blood,  blood,  everywhere.  Blood  on  Carmel  and 
at  Kishon ;  on  Gilboa  and  around  this  lonely  Tabor 
All  around  me  below, 

“  I  heard  the  ceaseless  jar, 

The  rattling  wagons,  and  the  wheels  of  war.^^ 

But  on  the  top  was  an  outpost  on  the  border  of  two 
W'orlds,  where  angels  and  men,  apostles  in  the  flesh,  and 
prophets  in  heaven  met  half  way,  to  have  an  interview 
with  the  Messiah.  Reclining  on  the  soft  green  sward 
under  the  cooling  shade  of  Tabor’s  top,  after  a  weary 
pilgrimage,  with  the  memory  of  assailing  robbers  and  a 
shadeless  waterless  desert  still  fresh  in  his  mind,  one 
feels  in  a  fit  mood  to  say  with  Peter,  “  Lord,  it  is  good  to 
be  here.” 

We  descended  the  mountain  toward  the  north,  through 
a  forest  of  tall  stately  oaks,  and  then  proceeded  on  our 
way  to  Tiberias.  Northward  from  Tabor  the  plain  of 
Jezreel  becomes  more  undulating,  and  even  hilly.  We 
rode  by  an  old  khan,  a  massive  ruin  with  crumbling 
walls,  arches,  gates  and  towers.  In  the  absence  of  any 
towns  along  the  road  here,  this  was  built  to  afford  shelter 
to  travellers.  On  an  opposite  hill  were  the  ruins  of  what 
must  once  have  been  a  strong  castle. 

For  awhile  we  rode,  single  file,  along  a  path  which 
dwindled  away  until  it  was  almost  lost  in  the  wheat-fields. 
Thinking  that  we  had  wandered  from  the  regular  path, 
Ahmed  asked  the  way  of  an  Arab  woman  we  chanced  to 
meet,  dressed  in  the  garb  of  peasants  and  poor  women — 
blue  cotton  steeped  in  dirt.  She  said  we  were  wrong, 
and  sent  us  over  neighboring  hills,  through  pathless 
wheat-fields,  over  rocks  and  ravines.  Finally  we  wan¬ 
dered  into  a  field  of  thistles,  as  thick  and  tall  as  hemp. 
37* 


438 


THE  SEA  OF  GALILEE. 


Sailing  on  a  sea  of  thorns  is  not  the  most  pleasant 
voyage.  Still  onward  we  tried  to  urge  our  horses,  biting 
the  lips  as  the  prickly  waves  swept  around  us  with  sting¬ 
ing  effect.  The  end  not  being  in  view,  we  called  upon 
Ahmed  to  pilot  us  back  out  of  this  thorny  dilemma. 
The  poor  fellow  wheeled  his  horse  around  to  return,  but 
seemed  greatly  mortified  that  an  Arab  woman  should 
thus  send  him,  an  experienced  dragoman,  adrift  on  such 
a  sea  of  trouble,  and  that  too  where  there  was  no  chance 
to  ask  anybody  else.  Riding  in  advance  of  us,  he  kept 
muttering  to  himself  —  I  do  not  know,  w^hether  prayers 
to  Allah  for  deliverance,  or  curses  upon  the  woman  who 
had  misled  us.  Finally  he  set  to  boxing  his  ears,  hitting 
earnest  cracks  at  his  head,  until  I  felt  alarmed  that  the 
man  was  going  crazy.  He  imputed  all  our  trouble  to  the 
woman,  and  applied  epithets  to  her  which  were  anything 
hut  complimentary.  Finally,  after  two  hours  wandering 
not  knowing  whither,  we  reached  the  top  of  the  hills 
which  girt  the  Sea  of  Galilee.  ' 

But  what  a  scene  meets  us  here  !  Deep  down  in  this 
mountain  enclosure  lay  the  crystal  lake,  in  a  kettle,  like 
a  volcanic  crater,  a  thousand  feet  below  the  level  of  the 
country.  Hitherto  we  have  passed  through  limestone 
regions,  hut  from  this  northward  one  meets  with  volcanic 
formations.  From  these  hills  outward  spreads  a  rolling 
table-land.  To  our  left,  the  long  ridge  of  the  hills  of 
Galilee  on  the  west  terminates  northward  in  a  square¬ 
shaped  hill  with  two  tops.  At  its  base  is  the  small  vil¬ 
lage  of  Hattin,  from  which  the  hill  is  called  “  the  Horns 
of  Hattin,”  sometimes  also  the  Mount  of  the  Beatitudes. 
On  one  side  it  touches  the  fruitful  plain  of  Genessaret. 
It  is  not  a  cliffy  hill,  but  slopes  gently  upwards  toward 
its  grassy  oval  tops.  On  one  of  these  our  Saviour  was. 


SALADIN  AND  THE  CEUSADERS.  439 

with  his  disciples,  after  he  had  been  teaching  and  preach¬ 
ing  in  Galilee,  healing  all  manner  of  sickness,  and  all 
manner  of  disease  among  the  people.”  Matt.  4  :  23. 
Seeing  the  multitude  which  had  followed  him,  he  came 
down  from  the  top  to  the  grassy  platform,  and  stood  in 
the  plain.  This  explains  the  seeming  contradiction  be¬ 
tween  Matthew  and  Luke ;  one  saying  that  ‘‘  he  went  up 
into  a  mountain,”  and  the  other  that  “he  came  down 
in  the  plain.”  Both  are  true  ;  since  the  plain  is  on  the 
mountain,  from  which  the  two  horns  rise  still  higher. 
There,  in  the  presence  of  “  his  disciples  and  a  great  mul¬ 
titude  of  people  out  of  all  Judea  and  Jerusalem,  and 
from  the  sea-coast  of  Tyre  and  Sidon,  which  came  to  hear 
him,  and  he  healed  of  their  diseases,”  he  preached  that 
Sermon  of  sermons,  called  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount. 
Matt.  5,  6,  7 ;  Luke  6  :  17-49.  At  least  such  is  the  tra¬ 
dition  ;  and,  whether  that  sermon  was  preached  entire 
in  its  present  form  or  not,  I  can  conceive  of  no  more 
suitable  pulpit  and  temple  for  the  Divine  Preacher  and 
his  audience. 

Around  this  mount  the  Crusaders  fought  their  last 
battle.  On  the  fifth  of  July,  1187,  the  army  of  Saladin 
was  encamped  around  the  base  of  the  hill ;  the  Crusaders 
were  encamped  on  the  long  ridge.  The  attack  was 
made  —  Saladin  stormed  the  Christian  intrenchments, 
routed  his  enemies,  and  hacked  them  to  pieces ;  and  since 
then  Moslems  have  been  the  lords  of  Palestine. 

It  was  going  toward  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  as  we 
leisurely  wound  our  way  down  the  rolling  hill-side.  The 
sun  shone  with  unwonted  heat,  which  the  gleaming  lake 
in  the  distance  seemed  to  reflect  and  intensify.  A  few 
Arab  women,  with  skins  of  water  on  donkeys,  relieved 
our  burning  thirst ;  for  our  water  had  become  unfit  to 


4-^0  THE  SEA  or  TIBERIAS. 

drink.  What  a  scene  and  taste  to  suck  water  from 
a  skin,  through  the  end  of  a  goat-leg,  with  the  wrong 
side  out,  glistening  in  the  sun,  like  a  black  hog  with  the 
bristles  shaven  off  and  the  lard  oozing  through  every 
pore,  —  and  the  inside  lined  with  the  original  hair,  which 
may  mingle  with  the  potion  he  drinks !  May  all  be ; 
but  necessity  knows  no  law  —  and  just  then  and  there 
the  hair  and  greasy  outside,  and  the  goat-leg,  at  which 
many  a  son  and  daughter  of  Ishmael  had  sucked  and 
slaked  their  thirst  before,  gave  me  little  trouble.  The 
kindness  of  the  swarthy  women,  in  giving  the  stranger 
drink,  led  my  thoughts  away  from  the  skin  to  Rebekah 
and  Eliezer  at  the  well  in  Mesopotamia.  Gen.  24. 

We  dismounted  immediately  below  the  town  of  Tibe¬ 
rias,  on  the  sea-shore,  where  our  muleteers  had  already 
raised  the  tents,  and  tethered  the  baggage  horses  around 
them.  Soon  Mohammed  sent  Firage  with  a  cup  of  coffee, 
our  invariable  beverage  as  soon  as  we  encamp ;  and  then 
we  strolled  along  the  shore  —  gathered  pebbles  and  little 
black'  sea-shells,  as  mementoes  of  our  visit.  But  how 
different  the  Sea  of  Galilee  now  from  what  it  was  when 
Jesus  sailed  on  it,  and  Peter,  James,  John  and  Andrew 
mended  their  nets  along  the  coast  and  caught  its  fish! 
Then  a  number  of  large  cities  graced  its  banks  —  Mag- 
dala,  Capernaum,  Bethsaida,  Chorazin  —  now  there  is 
none  but  this  miserable  half- Jewish  town  of  Tiberias. 
Then  it  was  white  with  the  sails  of  trading  ships ;  now 
not  a  sail  streams  over  its  waters.  No  bark  or  boat  is 
seen.  The  last  boat  that  was  borne  on  its  bosom  Lieu¬ 
tenant  Lynch  took  with  him  down  the  Jordan  rapids  to 
the  Dead  Sea.  Then  it  was  alive  with  fishermen,  ‘‘mend¬ 
ing  their  nets  ”  along  the  shore  and  on  board  their  ships  ; 
drawing  up  quantities  of  fishes,  so  heavy  that  the  nets 


DESCRIPTION  OF  THE  LAKE. 


441 


were  torn  in  twain.  Now  nought  but  occasional  hooks 
are  cast  in  from  the  shore  by  the  few  who  pay  the  Govern¬ 
ment  for  this  privilege.  But  the  sea  is  all  alive  with  fish. 
They  fioated  familiarly  around  me  while  bathing,  and 
leaped  above  the  water  in  all  directions.  And  most 
excellent  diet  they  furnish.  We  had  them  on  our  table, 
such  as  Ahmed  bought  from  one  of  the  few  fishermen 
still  here  ;  just  such  as  “  the  two  fishes  ”  and  “  the  few 
little  fishes”  with  which  Jesus  fed  the  multitudes,  all 
caught  in  this  same  sea. 

The  sea  of  Galilee  is  about  fourteen  miles  long,  and  in 
its  broadest  parts  seven  miles  wide.  It  is  simply  an  ex¬ 
pansion  of  the  Jordan  into  a  large  basin.  The  river 
empties  into  it  at  the  northern  and ‘emerges  from  it  at 
the  southern  end.  According  to  some  authorities  it  lies 
six  hundred  feet  lower  than  the  Mediterranean.  It  is 
edged  around  by  mountains  which  keep  a  little  aloof  from 
the  sea,  leaving  a  narrow  beach  clear  around  its  edge. 
These  enable  you  to  take  in  its  whole  extent  with  one 
view.  And  where  the  atmosphere  is  so  clear  as  here  in 
the  East,  without  haze  or  moisture,  the  opposite  shores 
seem  to  be  so  near  each  other,  that  its  reputed  size  seems 
almost  incredible.  All  the  hills  around  it  are  strewn 
with  more  or  less  grass,  which  seen  in  the  distance  blends 
with  the  bleaker  colors  of  half-concealed  earth  and  rocks, 
with  the  most  pleasant  effect.  And  then  when  the  hills 
cast  their  long  deep  shadows  across  the  sea  while  the 
sun-light  still  lingers  on  the  eastern  heights,  they  looked  as 
if  the  touch  of  a  magic  pencil  had  suddenly  swept  celestial 
colors  over  their  canvas.  Higher  and  higher  rose  the 
shadow  after  the  departing  sun  toward  the  hill-tops. 
But  for  a  while  even  the  shades  of  night  were  tinged  with 
twilight  hues,  and  the  half-hid  hills  still  shone  with  soft 


442 


THE  UNBELIEVING  CITIES. 


rose-colors.  Then  came  night,  and  the  stars — the  starry 
heavens  all  in  the  sea,  reflected  on  its  spotless  bosom. 
Coleridge  says  :  It  is  only  by  celestial  observations  that 
terrestrial  charts  can  be  constructed.”  So  by  the  Incar¬ 
nation  of  Christ  the  heavenly  is  mirrored  in  the  earthly, 
the  Divine  in  the  Human.  The  starry  heavens  reflected 
on  the  glassy  surface  of  the  lake  —  it  was  an  image  of 
the  believing  human  heart. 

Such  are  the  natural  features  of  the  most  sacred  sheet 
of  water  on  the  face  of  the  globe.  No  place  can  be  found 
all  the  world  over,  which  has  been  the  theatre  of  so  many 
miraculous  and  Divine  manifestations  as  this.  While 
Nazareth  was  the  home  of  our  Saviour’s  childhood  and 
youth,  this  region  was  the  home  of  his  manhood  and 
miracles.  Here  were  Chorazin,  Bethsaida,  and  Caper¬ 
naum,  in  which  for  three  years  ‘‘most  of  his  mighty  works 
were  done  and  because  of  their  failing  to  improve  them 
it  shall  be  more  tolerable  for  Tyre  and  Sidon,  and  the 
land  of  Sodom  in  the  day  of  Judgment  than  for  these 
cities.  Matt.  11  :  20-24.  And  how  literally  this  has 
been  fulfilled !  The  places  of  Tyre  and  Sidon  are  still 
known  and  seen,  but  no  one  can  tell  where  stood  these 
woe-afflicted  cities.  Some  imagine  to  have  found  Caper¬ 
naum  in  a  few  crumbling  walls,  but  thus  far  little  is 
known  concerning  any  of  them  beyond  conjecture.  Thus 
the  doomed  cities  have  not  only  perished,  but  their  places 
have  been  lost  and  forgotten. 

“  The  sea  of  Galilee  ”  is  never  mentioned  in  the  Old 
Testament,  but  reference  is  repeatedly  made  to  it  as  “  the 
sea  of  Chinneroth,”  “the  sea  of  Cinneroth,”  and  “the 
sea  of  Chinnereth,”  all  meaning  the  same  sea.  Numbers 
34  :  11 ;  Joshua  12  :  3;  and  13  :  27.  Sometimes  these 
names  occur  without  being  connected  with  the  sea,  when 


ANCIENT  PROSPERITY. 


443 


they  designate  either  a  town  on  its  hanks,  or  the  district 
of  country  around  it.  Joshua  19  :  35.  It  was  made  a 
boundary  mark  in  the  distribution  of  Canaan  among  the 
northern  tribes,  (Deut.  3  :  17),  and  one  of  the  fenced  or 
walled  cities  of  Naphtali.  Joshua  19  :  35. 

In  the  New  Testament  this  sea  reaches  its  highest 
destination.  The  fertile  border  around  the  shore  was 
cultivated  like  a  garden.  The  hills  were  covered  with 
herds  of  cattle  and  flocks  of  sheep.  On  the  western  and 
north-western  side  of  the  sea,  the  hills  separate  and  re¬ 
cede  inland,  forming  a  level  plain  of  five  miles  wide,  and 
six  or  seven  miles  long,  which  even  in  its  present  ne¬ 
glected  condition  teems  with  fertility.  This  plain  is  “  the 
land  of  Genesaret  ”  of  the  Gospel.  Matt,  14  :  34. 
Four  springs  send  copious  streams  over  the  plain,  which 
are  a  great  blessing  in  this  depressed  warm  region,  and 
help  to  cover  it  with  a  tropical  vegetation.  It  is  a  per¬ 
fect  garden  spot,  reminding  one  all  the  while  of  the  valley 
of  the  Nile. 

This  lake  and  plain  were  moreover  along  the  great 
thoroughfare  of  trade,  between  Babylon,  Damascus  and 
Palestine.  All  around  the  sea  wealthy  cities  were 
planted,  which  carried  on  a  busy  trade  with  each  other 
by  means  of  ships.  All  this  combined  to  make  this  an 
influential  region,  the  centre  of  Galilee  and  northern 
Palestine.  It  was  no  stirless  retired  spot,  where  Jesus 
sought  rest  from  the  passions  and  corruptions  of  men 
in  solitude,  but  the  heart  and  metropolis  of  the  social 
and  commercial  life  of  Syria  and  Canaan.  For  this  rea¬ 
son  He  dwelt  here  in  preference  to  Jerusalem  or  any  of 
the  other  cities  of  the  Holy  Land.  Nowhere  could  He 
have  found  such  a  prolific  soil  into  which  to  sow  the  seed 
of  Life. 


444 


CHRIST  IN  GALILEE. 


Galilee  then  was  a  swarming  hive  of  busy  life.  It 
contained  over  four  hundred  cities  and  villages.  It  was 
spoken  of  as  upper  and  lower  Galilee.  That  part  border¬ 
ing  on  Samaria,  including  the  plain  of  Jezreel  and  Naza¬ 
reth,  was  lower,  and  the  more  mountainous  portions 
along  the  foot  of  Lebanon  constituted  upper  Galilee.  Our 
Saviour  coming  from  Nazareth  hither,  goes  into  Galilee 
(upper  Galilee).  Matt.  4  :  12-13.  This  part,  according 
to  Strabo,  was  partly  inhabited  by  Gentiles,  Phoenicians, 
Syrians,  Arabs,  and  Josephus  says  even  Greeks.  For 
this  reason  the  northern  portion  came  to  be  called  ‘‘  Gali¬ 
lee  of  the  Gentiles.”  Matt.  4  :  15.  They  were  industri¬ 
ous  mountain  people,  but  the  Jews  living  here  were  des¬ 
pised  by  their  brethren  of  Judea,  for  being  mixed  up 
with  Gentiles  and  acquiring  their  rude  dialect.  For  this 
reason  too  the  Apostles  were  reproachfully  named 
‘‘  Galileans,”  and  Jesus  “  the  Galilean.” 

Here  lived  the  Jewish  sects  in  common  with  the  Gen¬ 
tile  races  of  Syria  and  Arabia.  The  people  were  less 
prejudiced,  but  perhaps  more  corrupt,  here,  than  in  the 
Holy  City.  They  were  more  ignorant,  but  less  envious. 
All  the  vices  of  trade  and  the  licentiousness  of  Gentile 
manners,  poured  into  this  mountain  metropolis.  Here 
were  all  those  diseases  which  are  the  offspring  of  corrupt 
manners.  These  furnished  abundant  occasions  for  the 
exercise  of  Christ’s  miraculous  power.  Hither  he  came 
to  call  sinners  to  repentance,  to  seek  and  to  save  the  lost. 
Nowhere  could  he  have  found  such  audiences,  and  such 
patients  to  heal.  From  here  ‘‘his  fame”  went  “through¬ 
out  all  Syria.”  Matt.  4  :  24.  The  people  streamed  “from 
Galilee,  from  Decapolis,  from  Judea,  and  from  beyond 
Jordan,”  and  from  “that  whole  region  round  about.” 
Matt.  4  :  25.  They  followed  him  into  the  “  villages  or 


FISHERMEN  OF  TIBERIAS. 


446 


cities,”  and  carried  “about  in  beds  those  that  were  sick 
where  they  heard  he  was,”  and  crowded  into  huts,  and 
even  sought  entrance  through  the  roof.  Mark  2,  and  6  : 
55.  By  the  sea-side  and  in  the  gates  of  towns  he  met 
“publicans”  or  despised  tax-gatherers.  Matt.  9  :  9. — 
Women  that  were  sinners,  Roman  soldiers,  boatmen  and 
fishermen,  the  sick  and  the  friends  of  the  sick,  he  found 
in  the  tumult  and  turmoil  of  the  teeming  cities.  Hither 
he  came  when  his  townsmen  at  Nazareth  rejected  him ; 
“camec?0W7i”  from  the  elevated  hills  of  Galilee  into  this 
deep  mountain-basin.  Matt.  4  :  13.  And  when  he  came 
the  words  of  the  prophet  were  fulfilled:  “The  land  of 
Zebulon,  and  the  land  of  Naphtali,  the  people  which  sat 
in  darkness  saw  great  light.”  Isaiah  9:1;  Matt.  4  :  15. 
The  tribes  of  Zebulon  and  Naphtali  bordered  on  thd 
banks  of  this  sea.  The  “darkness”  here  indicates  their 
low  and  lost  moral  condition. 

Here  our  Saviour  found  men  fishing,  of  whom  he  made 
“  fishers  of  men.”  This  sea  has  ever  been  famous  for  the 
quantity  and  quality  of  its  finny  tribes,  on  which  account 
two  cities  on  its  banks  were  called  the  “  House  of  Fish¬ 
eries”  or  “  Bethsaida.”  One  of  these  was  the  home  of 
Philip,  Andrew,  and  Simon.  John  1  :  44.  Walking  along 
the  shore  one  day,  in  the  early  part  of  his  ministry, 
Jesus  saw  two  brothers,  in  the  act  of  “  casting  a  net  into 
the  sea,  for  they  were  fishers.  And  he  saith  unto  them. 
Follow  me,  and  I  will  make  you  fishers  of  men.  And 
they  straightw’ay  left  their  nets  and  followed  him.”  After 
a  while  he  spied  an  old  man,  with  his  two  sons,  in  a  ship 
lying  at  the  shore,  mending  their  nets.  Them  too  he 
called  to  follow  him,  “  and  they  immediately  left  the 
ship  and  their  father,  and  followed  him.”  Matt.  4  :  18-22, 
38 


446 


CHRIST  ON  THE  LAKE 


And  these  brawny,  hard-working  fishermen  became  four 
of  the  chief  Apostles  of  our  Saviour. 

It  was  a  hard  occupation,  often  requiring  them  to  labor 
while  others  slept,  and  endangering  their  lives  in  perilous 
storms.  Once,  after  they  had  vainly  “toiled  all  night,” 
Simon  moored  his  ship  in  the  calm  eddy  along  the  shore, 
and  washed  his  nets.  Just  then  a  great  crowd  pressed 
Jesus,  as  “  he  stood  by  the  lake.”  To  escape  the  incon¬ 
venience  of  such  a  multitude,  he  entered  Simon’s  ship, 
and  told  him  to  push  it  a  little  away  from  the  shore,  so 
as  to  get  a  better , chance  to  speak  to  the  people;  and 
then  he  taught  the  wonder-stricken  assembly  from  the 
vessel.  Then  he  counselled  Peter  to  launch  out  into  the 
deep,  and  throw  out  his  net  for  a  draught.  The  quantity 
caught  was  so  great  that  the  net  brake.  Two  ships  were 
filled  with  the  fish,  so  that  they  began  to  sink.  “  Peter 
fell  down  at  Jesus’  knees,  saying.  Depart  from  me,  for  I 
am  a  sinful  man.”  Then  Peter,  together  with  James  and 
John,  who  were  his  partners,  again  forsook  their  ships 
and  followed  Christ.  Luke  5  :  1-11.  Of  course,  these 
“ships”  were  nothing  but  fishing-boats,  easily  manned. 

Although  Christ  was  the  maker  and  controller  of  all 
worlds,  he  yet  was  subject  to  earthly  rulers  —  “  the 
powers  that  be.”  At  one  time  the  tax-gatherers  asked 
him  for  his  tribute-money,  and  he  had  nothing  to  pay  it 
with,  for  he  was  poor.  And  Peter,  having  left  his  fish¬ 
ing  business,  had  no  means  of  earning  money.  Then  he 
sent  Peter  to  the  sea-side,  with  his  hook,  and  the  first 
fish  he  caught  had  the  needed  money  in  its  mouth. 
“  That  give  for  me  and  thee,”  said  Christ.  Matt.  17  : 
24-27. 

The  crucifixion  of  Christ  inflicted  grievous  discourage¬ 
ments  on  his  disciples,  which  even  his  resurrection  could 


GREAT  HAUL  OE  EISHES. 


447 


not  at  once  remove.  There  might  have  been  some  show 
of  reason  to  follow  him  before  his  death ;  but  to  persist 
in  following  a  man  on  whom  rested  the  curse  and  igno¬ 
miny  of  the  cross,  would  he  to  share  his  shame,  and,  in 
the  eyes  of  most  people,  an  act  of  sheer  madness.  They 
could  not  go  forth  to  preach,  for  they  had  not  yet 
received  the  Holy  Ghost.  They  had  received  momentary 
glimpses  of  the  risen  Saviour,  but  still  he  appeared  as 
if  by  stealth.  What  should  they  do?  Whither  go? 
Away  from  Jerusalem  to  the  home  of  Jesus  among  the 
hills  of  Galilee  ?  But  even  here  they  must  live ;  and 
wherewith  buy  bread  ?  Seven  of  them  were  together. 
Simon  Peter,  who  acted  as  guide  and  counsellor,  “  saith 
unto  them,  I  go  a  fishing.”  The  others  consent  to  follow, 
and  so,  in  their  extremity,  they  get  at  their  old  business. 
It  was  not  an  abandoning  of  the  cause  of  Christ,  but  an 
efibrt  honestly  to  get  their  daily  bread.  For  a  whole 
night  they  labored,  but  ‘‘caught  nothing.”  It  was  a 
dreary  night  to  them.  There  was  the  little,  sad  company 
of  seven  in  their  boat  on  the  lake.  In  the  hush  of  morn¬ 
ing,  before  the  surrounding  villages  woke  to  the  hum 
and  hurry  of  daily  toil,  they  spied  through  the  first 
grey  light  of  dawn  a  solitary  figure  “on  the  shore.” 
Through  the  still  air  came  a  gentle  voice,  after  the 
endearing  manner  of  the  East,  “  Children,  have  ye  any 
meat?”  They  sadly  answer,  “No.”  He  who  is  afflicted 
in  all  our  afflictions,  knew  the  distress  of  their  hearts, 
and  came  to  fill  the  hungry.  Again,  he  tells  them  where 
to  cast  their  net,  which  they  are  not  able  to  draw  “  for 
the  multitude  of  fishes”  it  contained.  The  loving  heart 
of  John  first  recognized  the  Master.  After  the  manner 
of  Eastern  fishermen,  they  had  thrown  aside  their  coarse, 
loose  tunics,  whilst  struggling  with  their  nets.  Peter 


448 


JESUS  WITH  HIS  DISCIPLES. 


hastily  put  on  his  fisher’s  coat,  together  with  his  girdle, 
leaped  into  the  lake,  and  dashed  through  the  shallow 
water  out  to  Jesus,  while  his  companions  dragged  the 
net  to  the  shore,  which  he  then  helped  to  pull  on  the 
land.  Jesus  then  invited  them  to  eat  “  bread  and 
fish”;  and  this  was  “the  third  time  that  Jesus  showed 
himself  to  his  disciples  after  that  he  was  risen  from  the 
dead.”  John  21. 


THE  SEA  OF  GALILEE. 


449 


CHAPTER  XX. 


%\t  jof  inlike — €\t  Maters  ai  llernm — 

Cesaren  flilipi. 


_  # 

The  Sea  of  Galilee  is  still  subject  to  tempests.  Sud¬ 
den  gusts  of  wind  sometimes  rush  down  the  ravines  and 
mountain-gorges,  resembling  violent  whirlwinds,  which 
soon  lash  the  lake  into  boiling  fury.  So  our  Saviour 
once  entered  a  boat,  with  His  disciples,  and  there  came 
down  a  storm  of  wind  on  the  lake.  He  was  asleep. 
The  boat  filled  up,  and  the  affrighted  disciples  awoke 
Him ;  and  He  rebuked  and  calmed  the  raging  of  the 
water.”  Luke  8. 

Once  He  told  His  disciples  to  get  into  a  boat  or  ‘‘ship,” 
and  go  to  the  other  side  of  the  lake,  —  to  Bethsaida  and 
Capernaum ;  He,  the  meanwhile,  sent  away  the  people 
that  had  crowded  around  Him,  and  went  away  from  the 
beach  to  one  of  the  neighboring  hills  that  rise  around 
the  lake,  to  pray.  The  boat  encountered  a  strong  head¬ 
wind  ;  so  that,  after  rowing  till  toward  morning,  they 
had  only  made  a  distance  of  three  or  four  miles  —  not 
more  than  half  across.  On  the  dark  sea  they  saw  some¬ 
thing  w’alking,  which  they  took  to  be  “a  spirit”  or 
ghost,  according  to  the  prevalent  superstitions  of  those 
countries,  both  in  ancient  and  modern  times.  For  who 
38  *  2d 


450 


CHRIST  AND  HIS  DISCIPLES. 


but  a  “spirit”  could  walk  on  tbe  sea?  They  were 
troubled ;  and  then  He  bade  them,  “  Be  of  good  cheer : 
it  is  I ;  be  not  afraid.”  Peter,  with  his  usual  impulsive¬ 
ness,  wished  to  run  to  Him  on  the  water ;  but  his  lack 
of  faith  caused  him  to  sink,  until  Jesus  came  to  his 
rescue.  Then  He  went  on  the  ship,  and  the  wind  ceased. 
If  there  were  fishing  and  trading  boats  on  this  sea  now, 
such  scenes  of  trial  would  still  be  common.  Matt.  14. 

About  a  mile  east  from  our  tents  at  the  southern  end 
of  the  sea,  was  the  site  of  the  ancient  Tiberias,  built  by 
Herod,  the  Goveriior  of  Galilee,  in  which  he  also  lived. 
He  called  it  after  the  Roman  Emperor  Tiberius.  His 
brother  built  another  city  at  the  northern  end,  near  the 
entrance  of  the  Jordan,  which  he  called  Julias,  after  the 
Empress  Julia.  Herod  had  imprisoned  John  the  Baptist 
over  beyond  the  Jordan.  As  the  Saviour  to  human  ap¬ 
pearance  seemed  to  make  such  slow  progress  with  the 
founding  of  His  kingdom,  the  good  man  became  doubtful 
of  His  Messiahship.  Then  “  he  sent  two  of  his  disciples, 
and  said  unto  him.  Art  thou  he  that  should  come,  or  do 
we  look  for  another  ?”  Matt.  11 :  2-3.  He  was  not  taken 
out  of  his  prison  until  Herod  had  him  beheaded.  The 
tidings  of  his  death,  like  the  message  he  had  sent,  reached 
Christ  at  the  sea  of  Galilee.  Then  He  and  His  disci¬ 
ples  “  departed  into  a  desert  place  by  ship  privately.” 
Mark  6  :  32.  It  is  remarkable  how  often  our  Saviour 
made  use  of  these  “ships”  or  boats  to  get  from  place  to 
place.  They  are  the  invariable  means  of  travel  and 
communication  between  different  parts  of  the  sea-shore. 
Among  the  hills  around  the  lake,  are  secluded  uncultiva¬ 
ted  glens  nestled  among  bluffs  and  projecting  cliffs.  They 
were  not  inhabited  then;  places  only  visited  by  an  oc¬ 
casional  herdsman  or  shepherd.  Although  no  crops  or 


CHRIST  FEEDS  THE  MULTITUDE.  451 

luxuriant  trees  are  raised  there,  they  still  contain  some 
grass  for  pasture.  To  get  away  from  the  press  of  the 
multitude  our  Saviour  goes  to  one  of  these  secluded 
spots,  called  “  a  desert  place,”  more  from  its  retirement 
than  barrenness.  But  even  thither  the  crowd  followed 
Him  —  five  thousand  men,  besides  women  and  children, 
whom  He  fed  by  a  miracle.  A  lad  who  had  come  with 
the  throng  had  five  barley-loaves,  fiat,  unleavmned,  un¬ 
raised  cakes,  shaped  like  a  plate,  made  of  coarse  ground 
unbolted  barley,  just  such  as  our  Bedouins,  and  even  our 
present  muleteers,  bake  and  eat.  Where  came  all  the 
people  from  ?  Some  from  the  neighboring  cities,  and 
many  no  doubt  were  Jewish  pilgrims  on  their  way  to  the 
approaching  feast  at  Jerusalem.  Matt.  14 ;  John  6.  That 
there  “was  much  grass  in  the  place”  shows  that  it  must 
have  been  early  in  the  spring,  before  it  was  burned  up 
by  the  sun.  Just  now  (April  27th)  all  the  hills  around 
the  lake  look  green. 

This  miracle  was  most  probably  performed  on  the 
eastern  side  of  the  sea,  where  the  mountains  approach 
nearer  to  the  shore,  and  which  then,  as  now,  being  be¬ 
yond  Jordan,  and  more  exposed  to  the  Bedouin  tribes  of 
the  desert,  was  a  more  retired  and  less  frequented  dis¬ 
trict  than  that  on  the  west.  Along  here  are  still  caves, 
cut  out  of  the  rocks  for  ancient  tombs,  and  others  formed 
by  the  natural  convulsions  and  volcanic  upheavings 
W'hich  this  country  must  have  passed  through.  Here 
where  the  ancients  deposited  their  dead,  demoniacs  or 
men  possessed  with  devils  sought  shelter.  This  was  “  the 
other  side  ”  of  the  sea,  where  Christ  met  two  of  these 
wretched  beings,  “  coming  out  of  the  tombs,  exceeding 
fierce,  so  that  no  man  might  pass  by  that  way.”  Matt. 
8  :  28-34.  Neither  chains  nor  fetters  could  bind  them. 


452 


M  A  G  D  A  L  A. 


Mark  5.  “  Thev  wore  no  clothes,  neither  abode  in  any 

house,  but  in  tombs.”  Luke  8  :  27.  On  the  green  slope 
of  the  hill-side  a  herd  of  two  thousand  swine  were  led  to 
pasture,  into  which  the  evil  spirits  passed  and  rushed 
them  down  into  the  sea.  The  swine-herds  must  have 
been  Gentiles  or  apostate  Jews,  whose  love  of  gain  was 
stronger  than  their  love  of  God,  as  the  Jewish  law  pro¬ 
nounced  these  animals  unclean,  and  so  the  Hebrews  re¬ 
gard  them  to  this  day.  Mohammedans  are  as  hostile  to 
pork  as  Jews.  The  hams  we  used  were  imported  from 
Europe.  Few  things  lower  a  Christian  so  much  in  the 
estimation  of  a  Moslem,  as  to  see  him  eat  the  meat  of 
such  an  unclean  and  foul-habited  animal. 

Most  probably  that  other  miracle  of  feeding  four 
thousand  was  performed  on  this  same  secluded  side  of  the 
sea.  Matt.  15  :  32—38  ;  Mark  8  :  1-9.  When  He  wanted 
to  get  away  from  the  multitude  to  a  quiet  place,  it  was 
“on  the  other  side  of  the  sea.”  But  again  the  multitude 
follow  Him  —  stream  from  far  and  near,  and  listen  to 
the  precious  words  which  drop  from  His  lips,  forgetful  of 
their  own  wants,  for  three  days.  Again  He  multiplies 
the  little  bread  on  hand  to  feed  the  great  multitude. 
Then  He  took  a  boat  and  crossed  over  to  Magdala,  a 
small  village  whose  site  is  marked  by  a  few  hovels  and 
the  ruins  of  a  watch-tower,  at  the  mouth  of  the  plain  of 
Genesaret,  about  three  miles  from  where  we  had  en¬ 
camped.  It  was  the  home  of  Mary  Magdalene,  or  Mary 
the  Magdalenian,  as  the  oricrinal  has  it.  Mark  15  :  40. 

The  most  interesting  place  around  the  sea  of  Galilee, 
of  ancient  and  modern  times,  is  the  plain  of  Genesaret. 
Here,  undoubtedly,  somewhere  was  Capernaum,  where 
Christ  moved  and  mingled  among  the  towns-people,  and 
healed  their  sick.  When  He  grew  weary  of  the  crowd, 
He  would  go  apart,  alone  to  a  “  desert  place  ”  to  pray. 


GEXEiARET. 


458 


Much  of  His  time  was  spent  here  (Matr.  4  :  13),  and 
many  of  His  miracles  were  wrought  in  curino:  the  sick  of 
this  city  and  yicinity.  Here  He  dwelt,  for  it  was  **  his 
own  city/’  Matt.  9  :  1.  Here  Peter  liyed,  and  here 
Christ  chiefly  *‘ dwelt,”  during  the  three  years  of  His 
ministry.  Matt.  4  :  13.  Here  He  healed  the  centurion’s 
seryant,  and  here  liyed  the  nobleman’s  son  whom  He 
healed.  Hither  He  was  coming  when  He  overtook  His 
disciples  on  the  sea,  and  that  most  wonderful  soul-nourish¬ 
ing  sermon  on  the  bread  of  heayen,  in  the  sixth  chapter 
of  John.  He  spoke  in  the  synasjosue,  as  he  tauirht  in 
Capernaum.”  Here  a  poor  daughter  of  affliction  pressed 
throuorh  the  crowd  to  touch  the  border  of  His  garment, 
and  Jairus.  whose  daughter  He  raised  from  the  dead, 
^Mark  5  :  was  doubtless  a  ruler  or  leader  of  one  of 

the  synagogues  of  Capernaum.  Here  He  opened  the 
eyes  of  two  blind  men ;  east  out  the  deyil  of  a  man  pos¬ 
sessed,  whom  He  met  in  the  synagogue ;  healed  a  man 
sick  of  the  palsy,  whom  His  friends  had  to  let  down 
through  the  roof ;  and  healed  Simon’s  wife’s  mother  of 
the  feyer.  Indeed  Christ  uttered  two-thirds  of  His  para¬ 
bles,  and  performed  two-thirds  of  His  miracles  in  despised 
Galilee ;  and  by  far  the  most  of  these  in  the  cities  and 
region  round  about  the  sea  of  Genesaret.  With  reason 
therefore,  could  he  say  that  most  of  his  mighty  works 
were  done  ”  in  these  cities.  Matt,  11  :  20. 

Here  at  the  opening  of  this  charming  plain  of  Genes- 
areth,  all  astir  the  greater  part  of  the  year  with  sowers 
and  reapers.  He  sat  by  the  sea-side,  and  when  the  crowd 
pressed  too  closely  around  Him,  He  again  went  into  a 
boat,  and  addressed  them  from  this  floating  pulpit. 
Possibly  the  plain  then  presented  a  busy  scene  of  persons 
sowing  their  seed ;  for  in  Palestine  they  sow  several  times 


454 


FERTILITY  OF  GALILEE. 


a  year,  often  sow  even  in  harvest.  Many  simple  unlet¬ 
tered  hearers  crowded  up  to  hear  Him,  to  whom  He  makes 
the  sowers  preach.  We  can  imagine  Him  pointing  with 
His  uplifted  hand  to  these  laborers  when  He  said :  “Be¬ 
hold  a  sower  went  forth  to  sow.”  Matt.  13.  Passing 
through  the  plain  I  noticed  narrow  foot-paths,  hard  with 
the  tramp  of  man  and  beast,  traversing  the  fenceless  fields 
in  all  directions.  The  skimming  scraping  ploughs  could 
not  turn  up  these,  and  the  seeds  could  not  strike  root  into 
the  hard  earth.  Of  course  the  numerous  birds  found 
here  will  “  devour  theih  up.”  Stony  places  there  are 
too,  along  the  base  of  the  hills,  where  a  thin  layer  of 
earth  partly  covers  the  rocks  near  the  surface,  too  thin 
to  nourish  their  growth.  Large  and  small  bushes  of 
thorns  grew  on  the  fields  of  lazy  peasants,  which  the 
Arabs  call  the  “Nakb,”  and  of  which  Hasselquist  thinks 
the  thorny  crown  of  our  Saviour  was  woven,  for  which 
their  long  prickly  points  would  seem  to  adapt  them.  No 
seed,  however  good,  could  help  but  choke  among  such 
thorn-bushes  as  one  sees  scattered  over  the  cultivated 
portions  of  the  plain.  But  the  “good  ground”  here 
really  seems  unsurpassed,  especially  when  contrasted  with 
the  unimproved  hills  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  lake. 
In  this  country,  and  especially  in  Genesaret,  the  crops 
of  farmers  often  yield  “  a  hundred  fold  ”  in  a  year,  as 
did  Isaac’s  in  the  land  of  Gerar.  Gen.  26  :  12.  In  our 
country  we  sow  and  reap  but  once  a  year,  but  here  they 
sow  and  reap  in  less  than  four  months. 

As  our  cavalcade  strung  its  line  along  one  of  the  paths 
that  threaded  the  waving  fields  of  the  plain,  I  dismounted 
to  pluck  a  few  ears  of  wheat  to  preserve  as  sacred  speci¬ 
mens,  —  large  beardy  heads  like  our  Mediterranean,  — 
when  lo !  there  I  found  the  tares  with  the  wheat,  just  as 


FIG-TREES. 


455 


our  Saviour  has  them.  The  tares  are  like  our  American 
cheat,  whose  grains  resemble  light  shrivelled  rye.  Some 
had  no  heads  yet,  whose  leaves  and  stems  looked  so  much 
like  wheat,  that  any  attempt  to  pull  up  the  tares  would 
“root  up  also  the  wheat  with  them.”  When  once  they 
are  in  the  wheat,  the  best  way  is  to  “  let  both  grow  to¬ 
gether  until  the  harvest.” 

Fine  large  mustard  stalks  grew  along  the  sea-shore  in 
abundance,  all  in  blossoms,  amply  large  enough  for  “  the 
birds  of  the  air  to  come  and  lodge  in  the  branches  there¬ 
of.”  The  seven  parables  in  Matt.  13  are  most  admirably 
suited  for  this  locality.  The  “  leaven  ”  to  which  he  com¬ 
pares  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  was  of  course  an  article  in 
common  domestic  use.  And  in  this  greedy  lake-empire 
where  commercial  prosperity  kindled  a  greediness  for 
earthly  treasures,  “the  treasure  hid  in  a  field”  seems 
very  natural.  Here  too  where  many  a  “  merchant  man  ” 
revelled  in  bloated  luxury  and  wealth,  goodly  pearls, 
pure  and  precious,  were  doubtless  in  great  demand,  as 
still  they  are  in  many  parts  of  the  East.  The  “  net  that 
was  cast  into  the  sea  ”  could  still  be  filled  in  this  lake. 

It  is  remarkable  how  natural,  true,  and  instructive  the 
parables  of  our  Saviour  appear,  when  studied  on  the 
ground  where  they  were  spoken.  These  localities  furnish 
impressive  illustrations  of  the  teachings  of  Christ.  The 
fig-trees  of  Olivet  still  preach  of  the  second  coming  of 
Christ ;  the  vineyards  in  the  Judean  hills,  hedged  round 
about  with  walls  and  watch-towers  in  them,  speak  of  the 
call  to  labor  in  Christ’s  vineyard ;  the  numerous  shep¬ 
herds,  walking  ahead  of  their  flocks,  over  the  south  of 
Palestine  and  around  Jerusalem,  calling  their  sheep  after 
them,  seeking  the  lost  and  wandering,  nursing  and  pro¬ 
tecting  the  weak  and  young,  speak  in  touching  terms  of 


456 


UNENCLOSED  FIELDS. 


the  Good  Shepherd,  whose  sheep  hear  His  voice,  seeking 
the  lost  —  more  concerned  for  the  one  astray  than  the 
ninety  and  nine  that  are  safe  at  His  side.  Going  down 
from  Jerusalem  to  Jericho,  attended  by  mounted  Turkish 
soldiers,  with  sword  and  spear,  to  protect  you  against 
robbers,  resting  in  the  shade  of  an  ancient  “inn”  by  the 
uninhabited  wayside,  haunted  by  many  a  prowling  Barah- 
bas  —  all  this  prepares  one  to  understand  and  appreciate 
the  mission  of  the  Good  Samaritan.  Nowhere  is  one 
more  strongly  impressed  with  the  superiority  of  Christ’s 
teachings,  both  in  method  and  substance,  than  here  amid 
the  mountains  and  dells  of  this  Holy  Land.  Evermore 
he  deduces  his  sayings  from  the  most  common  subjects 
and  scenes  of  natural  and  social  life  —  things  which  peo¬ 
ple  saw  and  handled,  and  whose  illustrations  they  could 
readily  understand. 

It  must  have  been  two  or  three  weeks  later  than  now, 
when  Jesus  passed  through  along  one  of  the  narrow  paths 
of  the  unfenced  grain-fields  of  this  plain,  and  his  disci¬ 
ples,  being  hungry,  pulled  ofi*  some  heads,  and  rubbed 
the  wheat  out,  and  ate  it.  Luke  6  :  L  Our  Saviour’s 
allusion  to  “new  wine”  in  “old  bottles”  was  made  at 
Capernaum,  his  own  city.  Matt.  9  :  17.  The  word  bot¬ 
tles  means  skins,  such  as  I  everywhere  saw  in  use  here 
to  transport  water,  wine,  milk,  and  oil.  They  are  simply 
goat-skins,  with  the  hairy  side  turned  in,  and  the  neck 
and  legs  tied  up.  While  new  they  are  tough  and  strong, 
but  when  old  they  become  dry  and  brittle,  and  are  easily 
torn.  For  this  reason  our  Lord  said  that  new  wine, 
which  was  not  done  fermenting,  would  break  the  “  old 
bottles”  or  skins. 

No  two  seas  could  be  more  unlike  than  the  Dead  Sea 
and  the  Sea  of  Galilee.  The  one  is  a  sea  of  death,  with  no 


457 


JEWISH  HOLY  CITIES. 

living  tiling  in  it ;  the  other,  a  sea  of  life,  teeming  with 
all  manner  of  fishes.  The  one  is  bordered  bj  bleak,  bare 
mountains  and  gravelly,  grassless  plains ;  the  other, 
hedged  round  by  grassy  mountains  and  this  exuberant 
“land  of  Genesaret.”  And  yet  no  two  regions  could 
have  been  more  alike,  before  the  destruction  of  Sodom 
and  Gomorrah,  than  the  country  around  this  sea  and  the 
vale  of  Siddim.  “  Then  that  plain  of  Jordan  was  well 
watered  everywhere,  .  .  .  even  as  the  garden  of  the 
Lord,  like  the  land  of  Egypt.”  Gen.  13  :  10.  No  better 
description  could  be  given  of  “  the  land  of  Genesaret” 
than  this — well  watered,  and  like  the  land  of  Egypt  along 
the  Nile.  May  not  our  Saviour  have  had  the  ancient 
agreement  and  present  contrast  of  these  two  localities  in 
his  mind  when  he  pronounced  a  woe  on  Capernaum? 
That  it  should  be  more  tolerable  for  Sodom  and  Gomor¬ 
rah,  which  once  were  equally  prosperous,  was  a  compari¬ 
son  intended  to  give  a  clearer  idea  of  the  ruin  and  deso¬ 
lation  of  the  curse. 

The  Jew's  have  four  holy  cities  in  Palestine  —  Jerusa¬ 
lem  and  Hebron  in  the  south,  and  Tiberias  and  Safed  in 
the  north.  To  these  towns  Jewish  pilgrims  mainly  resort, 
and  here  nearly  all  the  Hebrews  in  the  Holy  Land  live. 
Tiberias,  near  w'hich  we  had  encamped,  is  surrounded  by 
a  wall,  except  on  the  side  toward  the  sea.  The  streets 
are  narrow*  and  filthy,  and  many  of  its  inhabitants  eke 
out  a  miserable  existence.  Its  population  is  estimated  at 
frofn  three  to  four  thousand,  about  one  thousand  of  wdiom 
are  Jew*s.  Like  those  in  Jerusalem  and  Hebron,  they 
are  a  forlorn-looking  race.  Having  no  taste,  and  per¬ 
haps  no  privilege,  for  farming,  and  neither  money  nor 
inducements  for  trade,  they  possess  no  means  of  support. 
A  number  of  them  gathered  around  our  tents  with  pitiful 
39 


458  AN  EMBARRASSED  CLERGYMAN. 


stories  of  their  gloomy,  destitute  condition.  Safed,  the 
other  Jewish  Mecca,  is  in  sight  of  Tiberias,  perched  on 
a  lofty  peak  of  Mount  Lebanon.  Tradition  says  that 
our  Saviour  had  it  in  view  when  he  compared  the  power 
and  prominence  of  Christian  influence  to  “a  city  that  is 
set  on  an  hill,”  which  cannot  be  hid.  Matt.  5  :  14.  It 
can  be  seen  at  a  great  distance,  the  houses  and  streets 
rising  like  steps  up  the  steep  mountain ;  and,  if  it 
existed  then,  our  Saviour’s  allusion  to  it  would  not  be 
improbable. 

We  met  a  German  clergyman  here,  a  chaplain  in  the 
Prussian  army  at  Magdeburg,  who  was  suddenly  deprived 
of  the  means  of  travelling.  He  had  been  journeying 
with  the  pilgrims  whom  we-  had  left  at  Mount  Carmel. 
Their  departure  in  a  steamer  left  him  without  a  caravan 
with  which  to  travel.  In  many  a  country  he  might  have 
taken  the  next  stage  or  train  of  cars ;  but  such  luxuries 
being  unknown  here,  and  travelling  alone  afoot  being 
unsafe,  he  had  to  bide  his  time,  until  a  chance  caravan 
might  pass  along.  We  left  the  poor  man  negotiating 
with  a  Jew  for  a  safe  transport  to  Safed,  where  he  hoped 
to  find  other  means  of  proceeding  toward  the  sea-coasi 
and  Beirout.  ,  • 

In  the  morning  before  we  started,  Ahmed  rode  with 
me  to  the  hot  springs,  a  few  miles  south-east  of  Tiberias, 
to'ward  the  outlet  of  the  lake  into  the  Jordan.  A  build¬ 
ing  over  the  springs  contains  bathing-pools,  in  separate 
rooms,  filled  with  warm  water.  A  number  of  naked  Arab 
invalids  were  lying  and  sitting  around  them,  like  the  sick 
at  the  pool  of  Bethesda,  waiting  for  the  moving  of  the 
water.  A  few’  were  splashing  about  in  the  steaming 
basins,  with  the  hope  of  washing  away  their  bodily  ills. 
I  might  have  tested  the  virtues  of  a  hot  bath  at  such  an 


A  CONSECRATED  SEA. 


45t? 


ancient  and  celebrated  a  place,  but  the  diseased  bathers 
looked  too  repulsive  to  hazard  contact  with  them  in  the 
same  pool. 

From  a  heap  of  rubbish  we  could  look  over  the  wall 
of  Tiberias  into  the  city,  where  we  saw  the  people  on 
their  house-tops,  some  asleep,  and  others  just  in  the  act 
of  getting  up.  Our  path  led  along  the  sea  for  some  dis¬ 
tance,  through  vast  quantities  of  large  oleander  bushes 
in  full  bloom ;  then  across  the  plain  of  Genesaret.  The 
air  was  all  astir  and  vocal  with  birds ;  large  partridges, 
pigeons,  and  doves,  cooing  plaintively,  amid  the  flowery 
bushes  along  the  beach.  Occasionally  a  crumbling  wall, 
perhaps  the  ruined  remnant  of  a  once  proud  city,  peeped 
above  the  rank  grass  or  grain.  On  a  hill-side  to  our 
right,  gently  sloping  down  into  a  green  dell  toward  the 
coast,  we  passed  a  spot  which  some  fancy  to  be  the  site 
of  Capernaum.  Upon  the  hilly  rim  of  the  lake,  we  took 
a  parting  view  of  this  consecrated  spot.  Far  dowm,  the 
sea  glowed  and  glistened  in  the  morning  sun,  embraced 
by  a  green  mountain  belt.  Most  appropriately  do  the 
Arabs  call  it  ‘"'the  eye  of  the  land,”  reflecting  the  splen¬ 
dor  of  the  sun  and  the  starry  heavens.  Its  history  and 
natural  features  leave  it  without  a  peer.  With  no  Mont 
Blanc  to  look  down  upon  it,  like  Lake  Leman,  and  no 
Rhigi  like  the  Vierwaldstatter  See,  the  silvery -headed 
Hermon  has  been  a  witness  of  its  events  and  vicissitudes 
since  the  days  of  Joshua.  Heathen  poets  love  to  make 
their  lakes  and  fountains  the  favorite  abodes  of  their 
gods,  but  where  is  there  another  sheet  of  water  which 
bore  the  Son  of  God  on  its  bosom,  and  fed  Him  with  its 
fishes ;  whose  'waves  He  pressed  with  His  sacred  feet,  and 
calmed  when  in  commotion  ?  Surely  no  spot  has  been 
associated  with  His  mighty  works  as  the  Sea  of  Galilee. 


460 


AN  ARAB  ENCAMPMENT. 


Far  up  in  the  bleak  hills  we  met  a  solitary  ruin  which 
may  once  have  served  as  an  ^‘inn.”  In  the  shade  of  its 
crumbling  wall  we  sought  shelter  from  the  sun,  while  par¬ 
taking  of  our  noon-day  meal.  Some  of  the  muleteers 
strayed  away  from  us,  which  occasioned  no  little  alarm. 
Finally,  we  halted  in  a  large  rolling  plain  near  a  stream 
of  water,  and  sent  a  few  armed  men  after  them.  At  the 
end  of  two  hours  they  arrived,  informing  us  that  they 
had  strayed  off  on  a  path  directly  toward  Damascus. 
After  we  had  encamped,  several  Arabs  from  a  neighbor¬ 
ing  tribe  rode  up  to  our  tents,  one  of  whom  dismounting, 
stuck  his  spear  into  the  ground,  washed  himself  at  the 
stream,  then  spread  his  coarse  blanket  on  its  bank,  and 
performed  his  devotions.  Warriors  and  others,  when 
they  stop  to  rest  or  pray,  usually  dispose  of  their  spears 
in  this  way,  just  as  Saul  had  stuck  his  near  his  holster 
when  asleep  in  a  trench.  1  Sam.  26  :  7.  After  a  while 
others  came  along  with  the  flocks  and  herds  (cattle,  cows, 
and  sheep),  of  the  tribe.  Some  of  these  too  said  their 
prayers  on  the  banks  of  the  stream.  As  the  Koran  re¬ 
quires  them  to  wash  before  they  pray,  they  always  per¬ 
form  their  devotions,  if  possible,  near  a  stream  or  a  foun¬ 
tain.  They  had  rather  an  intelligent  look,  and  asked 
why  we  did  not  stop  nearer  their  encampment. 

Our  encampment  was  on  the  edge  of  a  large  level 
marshy  plain,  in  sight  of  Lake  Merom.  Whilst  the  sea 
of  Galilee  has  little  connection  with  Old  Testament  his¬ 
tory,  the  Dead  Sea  and  this  Lake  have  none  with  the 
New.  It  is  in  the  midst  of  a  tract  of  table-land,  so 
marshy  in  places,  that  it  is  difiicult  to  approach  it.  A 
part  of  its  shore  is  skirted  with  tall  reeds  and  impenetra¬ 
ble  jungle,  the  abode  of  wild  fowl  and  gazelles,  such  as 
are  found  along  the  southern  part  of  the  Jordan.  This 


FINAL  DEFEAT  OF  THE  CANAANITES.  461 


uppermost  lake  of  the  Jordan  is  about  seven  miles  long 
and  six  wide. 

Here  in  this  low  plain  around  the  Lake  —  “at  the  wa¬ 
ters  of  Merom”  —  Joshua  fought  his  last  decisive  battle 
with  the  Canaanites.  He  had  commenced  down  at  Jericho, 
and  fought  his  way  northward,  until  finally  the  Canaanite 
races  gathered  in  this  bottom  district  at  the  foot  of  Mount 
Lebanon,  to  engage  in  a  last  desperate  struggle,  with 
Jabin  King  of  Hazor  at  their  head.  The  name  of  Hazor 
still  lingers  at  the  head  of  the  plain  toward  Hermon, 
and  Stanley  thinks  he  has  found  the  site  of  the  ancient 
city  in  a  spot  near  Cesarea  Philippi,  marked  by  a  few 
rude  blocks  of  stone,  on  a  rocky  eminence.  The  heads 
of  the  different  tribes  were  assembled  around  him,  with 
their  followers,  “  much  people,  even  as  the  sand  that  is 
upon  the  sea-shore  in  multitude,  with  horses  and  chariots 
very  many.”  It  was  the  last  desperate  effort  of  the  Ca¬ 
naanites  to  banish  the  Hebrew  invaders  from  their  soil. 
Kor  the  first  time  Joshua  had  to  encounter  horses  and 
chariots  in  battle.  These  could  have  full  play  along  the 
level  shores  of  the  lake.  He  made  a  sudden  and  start¬ 
ling  attack,  and  threw  the  enemy  into  confusion.  Terri¬ 
ble  was  the  slaughter,  for  the  Lord  wished  this  formidable 
mode  of  warfare  to  be  exterminated,  so  as  to  save  his 
people  from  their  future  annoyances.  For  this  reason  he 
commanded  Joshua  to  “hough  their  horses  and  burn 
their  chariots  with  fire.”  He  slew  all  that  were  in  Hazor, 
together  with  the  king  thereof.  He  pursued  the  fugitive 
Canaanites  far  over  the  western  hills  of  Palestine,  and 
he  smote  them,  until  he  left  none  of  them  remaining. 
This  finished  the  conquest  of  Canaan  from  Beersheba  to 
Dan,  from  Pisgah  to  Hermon.  Joshua  11. 

The  next  morning  we  proceeded  northward  over  the 


89 


462 


THE  BUFFALO. 


plain.  In  an  hour  we  reached  a  brook,  with  a  ruined 
building,  that  might  once  have  been  a  mill.  Sections  of 
these  marshes  are  cultivated,  and  produce  heavy  crops. 
At  some  places  flocks  of  Arabs  were  ploughing,  some 
with  large  bufialoes,  others  with  oxen.  I  need  not  say 
that  these  are  a  difierent  animal  from  our  American  buf¬ 
faloes.  They  are  large,  raw-boned  beasts,  with  a  thin 
sprinkling  of  short  hair,  of  a  dark  ash- color,  coarse  skin, 
large  long  horns,  sometimes  growing  almost  horizontally 
and  half  spirally  away  from  their  heads.  They  are  not 
a  cleanly  animal,  as  the  flies  and  heat  set  them  to  wal¬ 
lowing  in  the  marshes  and  mud  along  the  Jordan.  If 
this  large,  raw-boned,  tough  animal,  with  a  long  tail, 
which,  when  chased  or  frightened,  it  “  setteth  up  like  a 
cedar,”  be  not  the  behemoth  of  Job,  it  certainly  bears  a 
striking  resemblance  to  it.  He  lieth  under  the  shady 
trees,  in  the  covert  of  the  reed,  and  fens.  The  shady 
trees  cover  him  with  their  shadow;  the  willows  of  the 
brook  compass  him  about.  Behold,  he  drinketh  up  a 
river,-and  hasteth  not:  he  trusteth  that  he  can  draw  up 
Jordan  into  his  mouth.”  Job  40  :  17-23.  Here,  as  in 
Egypt,  they  are  very  generally  used  for  ploughing. 
Where  there  are  no  wagons  they  of  course  need  no  team 
or  wagon  animals.  Stanley  thinks  this  bufialo  is  the 
unicorn  of  the  Bible,  which  many  interpreters  take  to  be 
the  rhinoceros.  As  this  animal  is  not  found  in  Syria  or 
Palestine,  there  is  some  ground  to  decide  in  favor  of  the 
buffalo.  Still  the  unicorn  in  Job  would  not  seem  to  have 
been  a  w’orking  animal,  as  these  are.  “  Canst  thou 
bind  the  unicorn  with  his  band  in  the  furrow  ?  or  will  he 
harrow  the  valleys  after  thee?”  Job  39  :  10. 

These  large  animals  call  vividly  to  mind  the  “buffaloes” 
and  bulls  of  Bashan,  for  whose  hills  we  saw  beyond  the 


Jordan  from  here.  Large  herds  of  cattle  grazed  over  the 
plain,  around  the  black  tent*  villages  of  the  Arabs.  The 
unchangeable  black  goat-hair  tents,  made  precisely  as 
Moses  made  them  at  the  foot  of  Sinai,  were  strung  out 
in  irregular  streets.  The  sides  were  taken  down  to  admit 
the  breeze.  Old  patriarchal  sires,  with  long  grey  beards, 
sat  under  their  canopy,  with  a  numerous  flock  of  half- 
naked  grand-children  romping  around  the  tent.  Some 
of  the  younger  women  spun  with  the  distaff. 

We  rode  up  before  one  of  these  long  tents,  and  got  a 
drink  of  milk.  It  was  something  between  buttermilk 
and  thick  sour  milk,  a  nondescript  article, ^^which  then  and 
there  tasted  very  well. 

Toward  the  end  of  the  marshes  we  passed  a  large 
tribe  of  Arab  warriors,  encamped  here  to  get  ready  for 
a  battle  with  the  tribe  we  met  at  the  foot  of  Mount  Tabor. 
About  four  or  five  hundred  saddled  horses  were  picketed 
around  the  tents — noble  steeds,  neighing  and  pawing  the 
earth  with  impatience.  Each  warrior  had  stuck  his  spear 
near  his  tent,  and  sometimes  near  his  horse. 

At  noon  we  reached  the  Jordan.  After  riding  some 
distance  up  its  western  bank,  we  crossed  it  over  a  stone 
bridge,  resting  upon  three  arches.  The  river  here  is 
lined  with  a  profusion  of  trees  and  thick  brushwood. 
While  reposing  under  one  of  the  arches  for  an  hour  or 
two,  several  Arab  boys  squatted  down  beside  us ;  one  a 
pretty  little  fellow,  with  a  modest  thoughtful  countenance 
and  a  noble  head,  surmounted  by  a  red  cap  and  turban. 
I  felt  myself  drawn  toward  the  lad,  so  that  when  we 
rode  away  from  them,  I  felt  a  keen  regret. .  His  physiog¬ 
nomy  brought  to  mind  the  probable  appearance  of  young 
Isaac  and  Joseph. 

From  here  commenced  our  ascent  of  Mount  Lebanon. 


464 


MOUNT  LEBANON. 


Through  rising  upland  glades  we  leisurely  rode  away  from 
the  Jordan,  to  the  music  of  birds  and  jingling  of  the  tiny 
bells  strung  to  the  necks  of  our  baggage  horses.  The 
path  leads  over  a  green  turf,  and  up  through  a  continuous 
grove.  The  Jordan  ramified  into  numerous  rivulets, 
which  purled  through  shady  thickets,  and  dashed  over 
wild  waterfalls.  Trees  great  and  small,  willows  and  tall 
terebinths  (oaks),  thick  wheat -fields  and  meadows  of  rank 
grass  skirted  our  way.  Leafy  branches  hanging  over  the 
path  brushed  our  turbans,  and  birds  frolicked  and  piped 
familiarly  all  around  us.  At  the  edge  of  Banias,  the 
Cesarea  Philippi  of  the  Scriptures,  at  the  foot  of  the 
great  Hermon,  we  raised  our  tabernacles  for  the  night. 
The  main  branch  of  the  Jordan  here  issues  from  a  natu¬ 
ral  cave  in  the  mountain-side,  a  full  river  of  clear  sweet 
water  at  the  start,  which  dashes  wildly  away  from  its 
large  spring  down  over  a  succession  of  waterfalls  and 
rapids  toward  Lake  Merom.  In  ancient  times  this  cavern 
was  called  Paneum,  perhaps  from  its  having  been  conse¬ 
crated  to  the  god  Pan.  For  there  was  Oj^time  when  Greek 
settlers  lived  around  here,  and  the  Greeks  were  in  the 
habit  of  worshipping  this  god  in  grottoes  or  caves.  This 
is  one  of  the  sources  of  this  life-giving  river,  so  mys¬ 
terious  and  sacred  to  the  Hebrew.  What  a  contrast  be¬ 
tween  its  origin  and  its  end !  Here  it  spreads  fruitful 
fields  and  fragrant  flowers  in  its  track,  a  paradise  of  vege¬ 
tation.  But  its  end  is  in  the  Dead  Sea,  from  which  all 
life  has  fled  for  ever.  He  that  findeth  his  life,  shall  lose 
it :  and  he  that  loseth  his  life  for  my  sake,  shall  find  it.” 
Matt.  10  :  39..  It  is  a  striking  figure  of  that  greatness 
and  merit  which  has  not  the  patience  to  acquire  solid 
worth  by  gradual  toil.  The  Nile  begins  in  a  desolate, 
unattractive  region,  but  ends  its  career  by  creating  a 


i 


THE  DANITES. 


465 


Paradise.  The  Jordan  begins  with  swelling  and  loud  pre¬ 
tensions,  but  ends  in  a  lake  of  death.  This  indeed  is  the 
destiny  of  all  natural  life.  “The  path  of  glory  leads 
but  to  the  grave.”  Four  miles  west  of  this,  another 
branch  of  the  Jordan  springs  out  of  the  mountain, 
where  the  Danites  anciently  had  a  stronghold  :  “  They  * 
called  the  name  of  the  city  Dan,  after  Dan  their  father 
.  .  .  hfwbeit  the  name  of  the  city  was  Lalsh  at  first.” 

Up  tc  these  rich  and  irrigated  declivities  of  Lebanon, 
came  the  restless,  roving  Danites  in  search  of  a  home. 
Five  men  were  sent  to  explore  the  country,  “who  came 
unto  Laish”  and  saw  that  the  people  dwelt  “careless.” 

“  Six  hundred  men  with  weapons  of  war”  went  up  to 
take  it,  who  on  their  way  took  aw’ay  the  gods  of  Micah. 
They  smote  the  city  with  the  edge  of  the  swmrd,  and  burnt 
it  with  fire,  because  it  was  alone  and  unprotected  in  the 
mountain,  “far  away  from  Zidon,”  having  no  business  or 
trade  with  any  man.  Then  as  now  the  land  was  “  very 
good,  where  there  is  no  want  of  anything  that  is  in  the 
earth.”  Judges  18. 

This  was  at  the  northern  extreme  of  Palestine,  just  as 
Beersheba  was  at  the  extreme  south.  Hence  when  the 
sacred  writers  wish  to  designate  the  whole  of  the  coun¬ 
try,  from  north  to  south,  they  say  “  from  Dan  to  Beer¬ 
sheba.”  Being  far  removed  from  Shiloh,  the  centre  of 
Jewish  worship  then,  the  Danites  “  set  up  the  graven 
image”  they  had  taken  from  Micah,  and  the  Levite  they 
had  coaxed  away  from  him,  served  at  their  altar  until 
they  selected  other  priests.  Judges  18  :  30,  31.  It  con¬ 
tinued  to  be  a  high  place  of  idolatry  until -the  separation 
of  the  ten  tribes,  when  Jeroboam  set  up  a  golden  calf 
here,  to  save  the  people  the  trouble  of  going  all  the  way 
down  to  Bethel. 


2e 


466 


CITY  OF  BANIAS. 


Banias  consists  of  about  fifty  houses  or  huts.  Many 
of  them  had  leafy  tents  on  the  roofs,  such  as  we  had 
found  along  the  foot  of  Carmel.  Most  of  the  people  seem 
to  live  from  their  flocks.  The  pastoral  life  is  the  favorite 
pursuit  of  Arabs,  because  the  easiest.  In  the  evening 
the  village  flocks  were  gathered  into  “  sheep-folds  ”  in  the 
rear  of  the  town.  These  consisted  simply  of  enclosures, 
some  of  wood,  and  others  of  stone,  low  enough  for  one 
easdy  to  ‘‘climb  up  some  other  way”  without  entering 
“  by  the  door.”  John  10  :  1.  Quite  a  busy  scene  ensued, 
when  a  goodly  number  of  the  villagers  milked  their  re¬ 
spective  goats.  By  the  side  of  the  town  is  the  ruined 
massive  masonry  of  a  fortress,  the  citadel  of  the  ancient 
city.  Other  ruins  are  around  the  place,  and  a  large  one 
higii  ap  on  a  remote  mountain-top.  An  inquisitive  swarm 
of  men,  women,  and  chattering  children  congregated  around 
the  camp,  watching  the  cook  in  the  preparation  of  hi^ 
unrivalled  dishes.  By  some  means  or  other  a  vast  army 
•  of  fleas  got  possession  of  our  tents,  to  our  almost  insuffer¬ 
able  annoyance.  I  can  still  see  my  comrade,  half-unclad, 
diligent  in  their  pursuit,  while  I  divided  my  time  and 
energies  between  them  and  my  Journal. 

To  a  Christian,  Banias  is  chiefly  interesting  on  account 
of  its  connection  with  Gospel  history.  Once  only  our 
Saviour  came  up  hither,  and  this  seems  to  have  been  the 
northernmost  limit  of  His  journeys.  He  had  been  utter¬ 
ing  bold  truths,  and  offensive  to  the  Jews.  The  feelings 
of  His  countrymen  had  reached  a  crisis,  when,  —  some 
from  timid  fear  and  others  from  discouragement,  — 
“  many  of  his  disciples  went  back,  and  walked  no  more 
with  him.”  Even  the  chosen  twelve  seemed  to  meditate 
also  to  “go  away.”  John  6  :  66,  67.  Then  “he  would 
no  longer  walk  in  Judea,  because  the  Jews  sought  to  kill 


MOUNT  HER MON. 


467 


him,”  (John  7  :  1);  “he  went  out,  and  his  disciples,  into 
the  towns  of  Cesarea  Philippi,”  (not  the  Cesarea  of  Cor¬ 
nelius,  which  is  on  the  Mediterranean  Sea,  toward  Jop¬ 
pa.)  This  rich,  well-watered  upland  district,  must  have 
contained  a  flourishing  population,  with  “towns”  or  vil¬ 
lages  along  the  water-courses.  Hither  on  the  boundary 
of  the  Jewish  and  Gentile  world,  to  this  elevated  look-out 
upon  Palestine,  He  brought  His  disciples  ;  and  as  He  went 
up  the  mountain  way  “  he  asked  his  disciples,  saying  unto 
them.  Whom  do  men  say  that  I  am  ?  ”  Matt.  16  ;  Mark  8. 
And  here  too  He  asked  that  solemn  question  of  the  disci¬ 
ples,  “  Whom  say  ye  that  I  am  ?  Simon  Peter  answered 
and  said,  Thou  art  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  the  living  God'’* 
Then  Christ  blessed  Peter,  and  in  sight  of  the  immovable 
everlasting  rocks  which  tower  high  above  the  city,  culmi¬ 
nating  in  the  snow-crested  Hermon,  against  which  the 
storms  and  changes  of  time  beat  in  vain.  He  continued, 
“  Thou  art  Peter,  and  upon  this  rock  I  will  build  my 
church,  and  the  gates  of  hell  shall  not  prevail  against  it.” 

Eusebius  says  that  Mount  Hermon  is  over  against 
Banias,  and  that  Jerome  was  told  the  same  by  his  Hebrew 
teachers.  And  so  it  appears  from  here,  rising  6000  or 
8000  feet  above  it,  and  10,000  feet  above  the  Mediterra¬ 
nean.  It  is  the  Mont  Blanc  of  Palestine,  whose  snowy 
crown  is  seen  from  almost  every  part  of  the  Promised 
Land,  down  to  the  wilted  region  of  the  Dead  Sea.  Leba¬ 
non,  which  means  the  “White  Mountain”  is  only  the 
pedestal  of  this  grand  statue  of  nature.  “  It  was  mount 
Sion,  which  is  Hermon.”  Deut.  4  :  48.  Jebel-Es-Sheikh 
— the  “Mountain  of  the  Old  Man” — and  Jebel-et-Tilj — the 
“Mountain  of  Ice” — the  Arabs  call  it.  The  Sidonians 
called  it  “  Sirion,”  and  the  Ammonites  called  it  “  Sheuir.” 
Deut.  3  :  9.  In  the  Canticles,  Solomon  represents  Clirist 


468 


EXTENT  OE  PALESTINE. 


as  inviting  the  Cliurcli  to  the  top  of  Shenir  and  Her> 
mon,”  to  view  the  charming  prospect  of  the  Holy  Land 
which  it  commands.  Cant.  4  :  8.  The  ships  of  Tyre 
were  built  “  of  the  fir  trees  of  Senir,”  which  is  Hermon. 
Ezekiel  27  :  5.  The  snows  on  its  top,  always  melting 
and  never  melted,  and  the  numerous  rills  that  purl  down 
its  watery  ravines,  send  up  mists  which  fall  gently  in  soft 
refreshing  showers  on  the  plains  at  its  feet.  The  peace 
and  unity  of  brethren  diffuse  a  sweet  influence,  refresh¬ 
ing  ‘‘  as  the  dew  of  Hermon,  and  as  the  dew  that  descended 
upon  the  mountains  of  Zion.”  Psalm  133  :  3.  The 
reference  is  not  to  Zion  at  Jerusalem,  where  no  such 
copious  dews  fall,  but  to  these  mountains  which  the 
ancients  called  Sion. 

And  now  we  have  reached  the  end  of  the  Land  of 
Promise.  From  Beersheba  to  Dan  have  we  journeyed 
through  this  goodly  land,  which  Moses  prayed  on  Pisgah 
to  enter  —  ‘‘the  good  land  that  is  beyond  Jordan,  that 
goodly  mountain,  and  Lebanon.”  Deut.  3  :  25.  Its 
smallness  disappoints  the'  expectation  of  every  traveller. 
It  is  only  about  200  miles  from  Dan  to  Beersheba,  and 
about  sixty  miles  from  the  Mediterranean  to  the  Jordan. 
And  on  this  little  territory  lived  a  nation,  the  essence  and 
extent  of  whose  influence  are  greater  than  those  of  the 
mightiest  empires  in  the  history  of  the  world.  Attica 
was  smaller  still,  and  wielded  a  marvellous  influence  on 
ancient  civilization,  but  not  a  tithe  in  comparison  with 
this  home  of  the  celestial  classics,  the  birthplace  of  the 
Absolute  Truth  in  Time. 

The  one  great  feature  of  the  country  is  the  range  and 
diversity  of  its  resources.  Its  climate  combines  the  tem¬ 
perature  of  the  tropics,  with  that  of  the  temperate  zones. 
Unlike  other  Eastern  countries,  here  “the  sun  will  not 


• 


A  FRUITFUL  LAND. 


469 


smite  thee  by  day,  nor  the  moon  by  night.”  Psalm  121 :  6. 
In  the  valley  of  the  Jordan,  and  especially  around  the 
Sea  of  Galilee,  you  find  a  vegetation  as  rich  and  rapid  in 
its  luxuriant  growth  as  that  of  the  tropics.  On  the  hilly 
highlands  of  Judea,  and  on  this  southern  slope  of  Leba¬ 
non,  the  salubrity  of  the  climate  is  unsurpassed.  No 
country  of  equal  size  contains  such  inequalities  of  sur¬ 
face,  and  such  a  diversity  of  fertile  soil.  Think  of  the 
top  of  this  Hermon,  10,000  feet  above  the  Mediterranean, 
and  the  Dead  Sea  1300  feet  below  it,  and  these  two 
points  not  200  miles  apart.  The  bleakest  of  its  hills 
are  pregnant  with  aromatic  herbs,  and  what  mountain 
could  compare  with  “  the  excellency  of  Carmel”  ?  Where 
find  herds  of  kine  and  cattle  like  those  which  still  roam 
over  the  green  hills  of  Bashan  ?  Rivers  too  it  has,  not 
large,  but  rich  with  sacred  associations.  Where  can  you 
find  rivers  and  brooks  with  a  history  like  that  of  the 
Kedron  and  Kishon,  of  Arnon  and  the  Jordan  ?  But  the 
land  depends  not  upon  these  for  its  harvests.  Providence 
has  two  methods  by  wLich  he  waters  the  earth — rain  and 
rivers.  ‘‘Who  giveth  ram  upon  the  earth,  and  sendeth 
w'ater  upon  the  fields”  (Job  5  :  10),  as  he  does  in  Egypt. 
Here  no  mediating  Nile  brings  fruitful  and  barren  years, 
but  fertile  showers  come  directly  from  heaven,  and  the 
clouds  (instead  of  rivers)  drop  fatness.  “  It  is  a  land  of 
hills  and  valleys,  and  drinketh  .water  of  the  rain  of  heaven. 
The  eyes  of  the  Lord  thy  God  are  always  upon  it,  from 
the  beginning  of  the  year  even  unto  the  end  of  the  same.” 
Deut.  11  :  11,  12.  Even  now  you  can  still  discern  the 
footprints  of  that  golden  age  in  its  history,  when  it  fiowed 
witli  milk  and  honey.  The  cliffs  and  rocks  along  the 
Judean  ravines  drip  with  the  honey  of  wild  bees;  the 
kine  of  Bashan  and  Esdraelon  (Jezreel),  and  the  full- 
40 


470 


FLOWERS. 


uddered  goats  of  every  village  flow  with  milk.  Its  cattle 
still  browse  on  a  thousand  hills.  Eshcol  still  furnishes 
clusters  from  the  vine,  like  those  the  spies  carried  on  a 
pole.  It  was  a  good  land,  a  land  of  brooks  of  water, 
of  fountains  and  depths  that  spring  out  of  valleys  and 
hills ;  a  land  of  wheat  and  barley,  and  vines,  and  fig 
trees,  and  pomegranates  ;  a  land  of  oil-olive,  and  honey  ; 
a  land  wherein  thou  shalt  eat  bread  without  scarceness, 
thou  shalt  not  lack  anything  in  it ;  a  land  whose  stones 
are  iron,  and  out  of  whose  hills  thou  mayest  dig  brass.” 
Deut.  8  :  7-9. 

No  trees  so  graceful  and  grave  as  the  figs  and  olives 
of  Olivet,  the  oaks  of  Carmel,  and  ‘‘the  cedars  of  Leba¬ 
non.”  Its  numerous  “flowers  of  the  field,”  and  the 
grass  that  withereth  —  the  sad  emblems  of  human  frailty 
—  look  as  beautiful  and  green  as  they  did  when  David, 
and  the  Son  of  David,  saw  and  admired  them.  The  rose 
still  blooms  on  Sharon’s  plain,  and  the  purple  “  lilies  of 
the  field”  still  grow  without  toiling  or  spinning  as  they 
did  then.  And  what  a  variety  of  “  the  birds  of  the  air,” 
singing  and  silent,  find  a  home  here,  such  as  even  Jesus 
found  not.  The  eagle  that  pounces  upon  its  prey,  and 
the  puny  sparrows,  which  cannot  fall  to  the  ground  with¬ 
out  the  notice  of  a  watchful  Father;  the  homely  lark, 
flapping  heavenward  in  its  cheery  song  of  praise,  and  the 
turtle-dove,  cooing  modestly  among  the  trees  and  thickets 
of  the  Jordan  and  the  Sea  of  Galilee ;  birds  of  gaudiest 
as  well  as  homeliest  plumage,  all  build  their  “nests”  and 
find  their  homes  here.  Earth  contained  no  lovelier  land 
than  this.  It  contained  all  the  elements  of  sublimity  and 
beauty.  A  distant  glimpse  of  its^matchless  prospect  re¬ 
freshed  the  dim  eye  of  the  dying  Moses.  No  land  was 


DEPLORABLE  MISGOVERNMENT.  471 


SO  well  fitted  to  become  the  native  country  of  Jesus  — 
Emmanuel’s  land. 

No  spot  on  the  earth’s  surface  would  have  been  better 
suited  to  become  the  theatre  of  the  Jewish  theocracy, 
and  the  starting-place  of  “the  kingdom  of  God”  in  the 
w'orld.  It  is  a  Microcosm,  a  little  world  in  itself,  the  soft 
blending  of  whose  seasons,  the  variety  of  whose  soil, 
scenery,  and  products,  as  well  as  whose  geographical  po¬ 
sition,  so  well  fitted  it  to  become  the  representative  king¬ 
dom  of  the  world.  So  that  when  Satan  showed  our  Sa¬ 
viour,  “from  an  exceeding  high  mountain,”  the  land  of 
Canaan,  he  had  a  miniature  view  of  “  all  the  kingdoms 
of  the  world  and  the  glory  of  them.”  It  was  set  “  in 
the  midst  of  the  nations  and  countries  that  are  round 
about  her.”  Ezek.  5  :  5.  Situated  on  the  borders  of 
three  continents  —  Europe,  Asia,  and  Africa,  —  along  the 
coast  of  the  Mediterranean,  its  location  eminently  adapted 
it  to  become  the  end  of  ancient  civilization  and  religion, 
and  the  beginning  of  a  new  era — the  geographical  centre 
of  the  world’s  history. 

While  the  natural  aspect  of  Palestine  is  pleasant,  in 
spite  of  its  desolation,  its  social,  political,  and  moral  con¬ 
dition  is  most  deplorable.  Nominally  under  the  dominion 
of  Turkey,  the  Sultan  appoints  his  governors,  who  extort 
tributes  from  the  people,  without  giving  them  protection. 
Not  a  single  road  is  made  or  repaired.  No  wagon  or 
carriage  is  seen  in  all  this  country.  Hostile  tribes  hew 
each  other  to  pieces ;  and  the  sons  of  Ishmael  come  from 
the  Desert  and  carry  off  the  annual  harvests,  drive  away 
the  flocks,  and,  if  resisted,  fiendlike  seek  revenge  in  de¬ 
stroying  their  last  hope  of  subsistence  by  cutting  down 
their  fig  and  olive-trees  and  covering  up  their  wells. 
No  arm  of  Justice  shields  the  innocent.  The  anarchical 


472 


FORESHADOWING  EVENTS. 


days  of  old  have  returned.  There  is  no  king  in  the  land, 
and  every  man  does  that  wliich  is  right  in  his  own  eyes. 
Judges  21  :  25.  The  decrepid  empire  of  Turkey  is  only 
perpetuated  by  the  jealousy  of  European  Christian  pow¬ 
ers.  Whenever  it  is  left  to  itself  it  must  fall,  like  an 
imbecile  paralytic.  These  “‘defenders  of  the  faith”  are 
the  means,  under  Providence,  of  perpetuating  the  pre¬ 
dicted  curses  sent  upon  this  Land  of  Promise.  All  that 
it  needs  is,  a  king  —  an  arm  of  power,  which  can  bring 
order  out  of  its  present  chaos. 

The  recent  convulsions  in  the  East,  especially  in  this 
Lebanon  district,  promise  to  hasten  the  dawn  of  the 
morning.  Europeans  are  constructing  a  road  from  Joppa 
to  Jerusalem.  England,  France,  and  Russia  have  sent 
fleets  to  Syria  and  Palestine,  to  quell  the  recent  murder¬ 
ous  outbreaks  of  Mohammedan  fanaticism,  and  protect 
the  Christians  and  Jews.  Without  these,  the  empire, 
which  nominally  curses  Palestine  with  its  misrule,  would 
devour  itself.  Attempts  are  made  to  form  Christian  colo¬ 
nies  in  Judea,  and  Christian  Governments  build  churches 
in  Jerusalem,  and  thus  help  to  beautify  it.  Wealthy 
Israelites,  from  different  parts  of  the  world,  are  buying 
lands  and  making  improvements  in  and  about  Jerusalem. 
About  four  millions  of  Jews  —  one-half  of  the  Jews  in 
the  world — are  at  present  lingering  around  the  Mediter¬ 
ranean.  They  are  variously  distributed  in  the  cities  of 
Asia  Minor,  in  Constantinople,  Smyrna,  Alexandria,  Cai¬ 
ro,  and  Damascus,  and  spread  over  Egypt,  Syria,  and 
Arabia,  including  the  whole  Turkish  Empire ;  but  all 
looking  toward  Jerusalem,  and  eagerly  watching  and 
waiting  for  the  flrst  signal  to  invite  their  return  to  their 
ancient  possessions.  This  drifting  of  half  of  the  Jewish 
nation  toward  the  Land  of  Promise  is  significant  just 


ACCOMPLISHMENT  OF  PROPHECY.  473 

now,  when  it  is  rumored  that  the  bankrupt  condition  of 
Turkey  has  disposed  the  Sultan  to  sell  Palestine,  and 
when  the  Rothschilds  seem  to  have  the  means  and  dis¬ 
position  to  buy  it.  All  this  looks  like  the  shadow  of 
stirring  ‘‘coming  events.”  “  The  isles  shall  wait  for  me, 
and  the  ships  of  Tarshish  first,  to  bring  thy  sons  (the  Jews) 
from  far,  their  silver  and  their  gold  Avith  them,  unto  the 
name  of  the  Lord  thy  God.  The  sons  of  strangers  shall 
build  up  thy  walls,  and  their  kings  shall  minister  unto  thee. 
The  sons  also  of  them  that  afflicted  thee  (the  Mohamme¬ 
dans)  shall  come  bending  unto  thee.  Whereas  thou  hast 
been  forsaken  and  hated,  so  that  no  man  went  through 
thee,  I  will  make  thee  an  eternal  excellency,  a  joy  of 
many  generations.”  Isaiah  60  :  9—15. 


40* 


474 


MOUNT  LEBANON. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


^nti-lebannn — Jnmastws — §aalljn. 


On  the  morning'  of  the  30th  of  April,  when  the  dew 
had  already  copiously  fallen  around  Cesarea  Philippi, 
we  started  for  Damascus.  Just  as  our  cavalcade  moved 
off,  the  herald  called  to  prayers  from  the  village  minaret. 
In  crossing  the  Lebanon,  one  must  of  course  expect  up¬ 
hill  work.  We  passed  a  number  of  Druse  villages,  whose 
inhabitants  looked  like  a  thrifty,  industrious  people.  With 
much  labor  they  had  improved  their  mountain  homes,  and 
spread  green  meadows  and  wheat-fields  over  these  sterile 
heights. 

The  women  looked  remarkably  tidy  for  orientals,  some 
of  whom  we  met  at  a  village  brook  busy  at  washing.  For 
a  long  while  we  rode  along  the  base  of  Hermon.  The 
large  ravines  on  its  top  were  partly  filled  with  snow.  Far 
up  in  Lebanon  we  took  a  last  fond  parting  glimpse  of  the 
Land  of  Promise.  Clear  on  the  top  of  the  mountain  we 
found  well-watered  dells,  with  flourishing  grass  and  grain 
fields.  At  the  base  of  a  rocky  mountain,  we  reached  a 
village  of  seventy  or  eighty  houses,  where  we  encamped 
for  the  night.  A  considerable  stream,  swollen  by  the 
melting  of  the  snow  on  Hermon,  roared  by  it  down  the 
mountain.  Our  arrival  proved  the  signal  for  a  gathering 


A  NOCTURNAL  ALARM. 


475 


of  villagers  around  the  camp.  Women  viewed  us  from 
the  house-tops,  and  herds  of  dogs  set  up  a  furious  howl¬ 
ing.  Bleak  mountains  extended  all  around  us,  forming  a 
circular  basin,  which  the  half-full  moon  brought  to  view 
in  a  strange  and  strong  relief  after  night.  At  the  dead 
of  night,  when  we  and  the  muleteers  sweetly  enjoyed  our 
rest  after  the  wearisome  mountain  ride,  a  sudden  flapping 
Df  the  tents  brought  all  to  their  feet ;  some  felt  around 
for  their  guns  or  swords,  and  we  for  our  tent-door,  for 
the  rickety  dwelling  took  such  a  jerking  and  reeling,  that 
it  threatened  to  collapse  forthwith.  Of  course  we  at 
once  thought  that  the  robbers  were  after  us,  and  Ahmed 
soon  had  his  whole  armed  regiment  of  Syrians  after  them. 
In  a  few  moments,  the  enemy  was  found  and  forgiven ; 
one  of  our  horses  having  taken  a  notion  to  pay  us  a  visit, 
and  becoming  entangled  in  the  tent-cords,  handled  the 
canvas  and  pole  somewhat  rudely. 

The  next  morning  three  Bedouins  joined  us,  likewise 
going  to  Damascus.  They  were  mounted  on  noble  Arab 
steeds,  armed  with  long  spears,  and  said  they  belonged 
to  the  war  tribe  we  met  encamped  near  Lake  Merom. 
They  were  rather  more  mirthful  and  jovial  than  Bedouins 
generally  are.  Eyeing  my  Arab  for  a  while,  one  of  them 
challenged  me  for  a  manoeuvre,  and  with  that  dashed  olF 
in  a  circle  at  full  speed.  Round  and  round  he  flew  in  a 
narrowing  circle,  with  his  spear  poised  between  the  thumb 
and  forefinger  of  the  right  hand,  managing  his  horse  with 
astonishing  skill.  I  knew  that  it  was  all  in  sport,  and 
gave  reins  to  my  charger  for  an  encounter,  using  a  cane 
for  a  spear.  With  his  nostrils  distended  he  snuffed  the 
air,  heedless  of  bit  and  bridle.  We  approached,  my  an¬ 
tagonist  with  his  long  w^eapon  aimed  at  my  breast,  his 
black  eagle  eye  flashing  beneath  his  knit  brow ;  and  just 


476 


PLAIN  OF  DAMASCUS. 


as  the  horses  neared  in  full  dash,  he  raised  the  spear  for 
a  hurl,  and  uttered  an  unearthly  whoop  that  shook  my 
whole  frame  with  horror.  The  fellow  could  not  have  as¬ 
sumed  a  more  terrific  look  and  posture  if  he  had  trans¬ 
fixed  a  mortal  enemy  with  his  weapon.  We  are  not  told 
whether  Saul  and  his  fellow-travellers  to  Damascus  were 
on  horseback,  but  it  is  very  possible.  '“The  men  that 
journeyed  with  him,”  were  perhaps  his  escort ;  if  so, 
they  were  armed  with  such  spears,  to  whom  our  Bedouin 
friends  must  have  presented  a  striking  resemblance. 

Few  luxuries  are  more  refreshing  to  the  traveller  in  ‘ 
the  East  than  abruptly  to  emerge  out  of  murky  breezeless 
wastes  into  shady  groves  where  purling  brooks  and  sing¬ 
ing  birds  fill  the  air  with  Nature’s  melodies.  So  we  rode 
wearily  over  the  eastern  slope  of  the  Anti-Lebanus, 
where  the  Arabs  extorted  stunted  crops  from  the  meagre 
soil.  The  enervating  sirocco  had  infused  languor  into 
every  limb,  until  respiration  almost  required  an  effort. 
From  a  sterile  mountain  eminence  the  vast  plain  of  Da¬ 
mascus  opened  to  our  view  a  dreary  waste,  relieved  only 
by  a  green  spot  in  the  distance,  w^hich  looked  from  here 
like  an  island  in  the  sea.  As  we  approached  it,  the  grand 
park  which  envelopes  the  capital  of  Syria  spread  out  more 
distinctly,  and  the  white  minarets  of  the  city  peered  above 
the  tree-tops  in  fragile  beauty.  On  the  edge  of  this  oasis 
we  reared  our  tents  for  the  night,  close  by  a  suburban 
village.  The  next  morning  we  rode  over  winding  paths, 
among  mulberry  gardens,  almonds,  pomegranates,  apri¬ 
cots,  willows,  and  tall  silvery  poplar.  The  air  was  redo¬ 
lent  with  sweet  odors;  turtles  and  cuckoos  cooed  and 
flew  from  tree  to  tree,  and  the  waters  led  out  into  many 
irrigating  channels,  diffused  a  fresh  breath  in  the  atmo¬ 
sphere. 


ENTRY  INTO  DAMASCUS. 


477 


Through  a  double  gateway,  with  pointed  arches,  we 
entered  a  wide  street,  one  side  of  which  was  partly  paved. 
Both  sides  were  lined  with  men  of  various  crafts,  and 
large  heaps  of  wheat  were  piled  up  in  front  of  the  houses 
by  the  grain-merchants.  In  half  an  hour  another  gate 
admitted  us  into  a  burial-ground,  bleak  and  dreary  as  all 
Moslem  graves  are.  No  tree  or  grass  was  seen,  but  onlj? 
graves  and  gravel.  The  tombs  were  walled  up  like  a  roof, 
and  plastered.  At  one  end,  a  little  water-pot  was  walled 
in  containing  water,  in  which  a  few  green  sprigs  were 
placed.  The  most  had  small  erect  tombstones  at  the  end 
of  the  wall,  with  an  inscription.  The  plastered  wall  is 
white-washed,  like  “the  whited  sepulchres”  of  our  Sa¬ 
viour’s  time.  Another  gate  led  us  “  into  the  street  which 
is  called  Straight,”  in  which  Saul  of  Tarsus  lodged.  Acts 
9  :  11.  It  is  the  principal  business  street  of  Damascus, 
lined  with  bazaars  or  shops,  and  roofed  over  in  many 
places.  Though  wide  for  the  East,  it  is  narrow  compared 
with  the  streets  in  our  cities.  It  was  crowded  from  side 
to  side,  a  perfect  hive  of  shouting  pushing  beings.  How 
to  get  our  horses  through  such  a  dense  mass  seemed  a 
serious  problem  to  me,  but  our  muleteers  understood  their 
work.  Two  of  them  preceded  us  to  prepare  the  way, 
striking  about  them  with  their  arms,  and  crying  at  the 
top  of  their  voices,  ^‘■Yemeenak  !  sJiimdlak  !  roah!'’  (to 
thy  right!  to  thy  left!  on!)  Then  again,  riglak ! 
kaahak  !  roah  I  ”  (thy  foot !  thy  heel !  on  !)  To  this  tune 
our  horses  bore  us  through  the  dense  mass  Avith  a  sIoav 
and  cautious  tread.  A  sea  of  up-turned  faces  stared  at 
us  with  sullen  mien,  but  none  dared  to  molest  or  make 
us  afraid. 

During  the  few  days  of  our  sojourn  here,  we  abandoned 
tent-life  for  the  comforts  of  a  hotel,  such  as  it  Avas.  This 


478 


SCENES  IN  DAMASCUS. 


city  of  200,000  inhabitants,  has  many  large  khans  for 
the  entertainment  of  Eastern  travellers,  hut  only  one  for 
the  accommodation  of  Europeans  and  Americans,  capable 
of  entertaining  twelve  or  fifteen  persons.  It  was  on  this 
‘‘  Straight  ”  street,  a  thoroughfare  of  Damascus,  which 
extends  from  the  eastern  to  the  western  part  of  the  city. 
The  roofs  of  the  streets  afibrd  protection  against  the 
sun,  and  many  that  are  uncovered  are  so  narrow,  and  the 
houses  so  high,  that  the  sun  rarely  reaches  the  people 
walking  through  them.  The  bazaars,  like ‘those  in  Cairo, 
are  small  chambers,  which  seldom  have  any  communica¬ 
tion  with  the  house  in  which  they  are  included.  Shops 
selling  the  same  articles  are  generally  in  the  same  part 
of  the  city,  and  these  rarely  sell  anything  but  the  one 
class  of  goods  or  ware.  So  the  shops  of  one  section  of 
a  street  all  have  shoes  for  sale,  others  all  have  hardware, 
others  all  have  copperware,  and  so  with  every  article  of 
traffic. 

The  mechanics  are  classified  in  like  manner.  Black¬ 
smiths  have  their  shops  all  together ;  so,  too,  shoemakers, 
jewellers,  saddlers,  tailors,  etc.  The  clatter  and  din  of 
tool  and  hammer  often  cause  a  deafening  noise.  Ancient 
Jerusalem  was  similarly  partitioned  off  for  different  crafts 
and  occupations.  When  Jeremiah  was  imprisoned,  he 
received  daily  a  piece  of  bread  out  of  the  hahers* 
street”  Jer.  37  :  21.  The  bazaars  of  this  ‘‘  Straight’* 
street  teem  with  the  riches  of  the  East.  The  stores  are 
small  six-by-eight  boxes,  with  an  open  front,  in  which 
the  owner  sits  tailor-fashion,  whiffing  at  his  pipe.  If  a 
customer  comes  he  is  likewise  offered  a  smoke.  Many  of 
these  are  grave,  patriarchal-looking  men,  with  white 
beards,  and  costly  flowing  robes.  Much  of  the  merchan¬ 
dizing  of  Damascus  is  carried  on  in  the  large  khans. 


I)  A  M  A  S  C  U  S  . 


A  9  ^ 


PRIVATE  MANSIONS. 


479 


The  ground-floor  of  the  large  square  court  is  used  for 
the  lodging  of  travellers  and  their  animals,  and  on  the 
next  story  a  gallery  runs  around  this  court,  which  connects 
with  store-rooms.  In  some  of  these  we  found  some  costl}’’ 
damask  goods,  and  articles  from  remote  parts  of  the  earth. 

The  wealth  and  splendor  of  Damascus  are  not  indicated 
by  the  external  show  of  the  dwellings.  Many  of  these 
are  large,  hut  none  look  attractive.  The  princely  man¬ 
sions  of  her  wealthiest  families  possess  few  external 
attractions.  The  outside  of  houses  is  unpainted,  and 
without  the  slightest  ornament.  The  walls  are  of  stone 
or  unburnt  brick,  and  have  a  dull  earth-color.  These, 
together  with  the  absence  of  windows  in  front,  impart  a 
gloomy  aspect  to  the  streets. 

To  get  a  peep  behind  the  dreary  walls  into  the  domestic 
life  of  Damascus,  we  called  on  a  number  of  wealthy 
families.  Our  first  visit  was  to  a  wealthy  Greek.  A 
swarthy  servant  received  us  at  the  door,  and  conducted 
us  through  a  narrow  entry  into  a  large  open  court  within 
the  house.  In  the  centre  of  this  a  fountain  was  playing 
into  a  stone  basin,  with  a  few  orange  trees  around  it 
bearing  golden  fruit.  All  the  rooms  extended  around 
the  square  court,  with  doors  and  windows  opening  upon 
it.  All  the  domestic  life  is  confined  within  these  walls, 
like  a  besieged  city  within  its  fortifications.  The  rude 
exterior  contrasts  strangely  with  the  gorgeous  interior. 
The  most  splendid  house  I  saw  in  Damascus,  had  the  out¬ 
side  appearance  of  a  mud-plastered  fortress,  while  its 
rooms  were  adorned  with  gold,  silver,  and  precious  stones. 
We  were  led  into  a  series  of  apartments,  all  fronting  and 
opening  upon  this  court.  The  floors  were  ornamented 
with  mosaic,  and  the.  walls  inlaid  with  gold  and  shining 
shells.  The  main  part  of  the  room  was  elevated  some 


480 


HARD  SMOKING. 


six  or  ten  inches  above  the  rest,  with  divans  placed  along 
the  w'alls,  perhaps  three  inches  high.  Gorgeous  as  the 
whole  appeared  at  first,  I  soon  found  that  it  would  not 
bear  close  inspection.  When  on  the  point  of  leaving, 
several  of  the  servants  pressed  us  to  t^e  seats  on  the 
divan  in  a  room  with  an  open  front,  and  accept  of  coffee 
and  pipes.  Not  being  partial  to  either  as  used  here,  we 
attempted  to  decline,  but  found  that  a  refusal  would 
place  us  in  an  awkward  position.  After  squatting  down 
about  as  awkwardly  as  western  travellers  generally  do, 
the  pipes  wmre  adjusted — tall  glass  globes  partly  filled 
with  water,  and  a  bowl  on  the  top  filled  with  tobacco. 
Their  excellence  consists  in  passing  the  smoke  through 
the  water,  and  thus  extracting  the  injurious  oil  before  it 
enters  the  mouth.  A  hose  of  a  few  yards  in  length 
brought  me  into  communication  with  this  apparatus. 
Whatever  may  be  the  virtues  of  this  kind  of  smoking,  it 
requires  a  great  power  of  suction  to  get  the  smoke  through 
the  water,  and  when  it  is  through  it  rarely  stops  before 
it  gets  into  your  lungs.  With  these  pipes  you  as  freely 
draw  the  smoke  into  the  lungs  as  you  inhale  pure  air, 
which  accounts  for  the  prevalence  of  liver  complaint  in 
Arabia.  This  is  a  peculiarity  of  these  kind  of  pipes, 
and  one  which  ought  to  banish  them  from  the  smoking 
world  at  once. 

With  patient  gravity  we  endured  this  laborious  inflic¬ 
tion  of  hospitality.  It  is  singular  how  soon  we  can  ac¬ 
commodate  ourselves  to  the  most  opposite  customs  of  dif¬ 
ferent  countries.  How  ludicrous  one  would  feel  at  home 
to  squat  down  cross-legged  on  the  floor  of  a  splendid 
parlor,  and  gravely  suck  smoke  through  a  long  hose  from 
a  glass  bottle  of  water ;  and  instead  of  dofiing  his  hat, 
doing  the  agreeable  by  occasionally  putting  his  hand  to 


WOMEN  OF  DAMASCUS. 


481 


liis  breast  and  head  !  But  this  was  not  all.  The  Arab 
says  :  “  Tobacco  without  coffee,  is  like  meat  without  salt.” 
This  was  served  in  tiny  cups  set  in  other  cups,  without 
sugar  or  cream.  Unsettled  of  course  it  had  to  be,  for 
according  to  oriental  notions,  the  essential  virtue  of  good 
coffee  consists  in  the  grounds.  In  another  apartment,  a 
Greek  priest  indulged  in  the  same  luxuries. 

The  second  house  we  called  at  resembled  the  first  in 
its  arrangement.  Indeed  they  are  all  alike,  having  the 
entrance,  court,  fountain,  basin,  rooms,  all  arranged  in 
the  same  manner.  The  lady  of  the  house  received  us  at 
the  door,  and,  followed  by  a  servant,  showed  us  her  bril¬ 
liant  dwelling.  She  was  handsomer  than  most  of  her 
sex  here.  A  profusion  of  gold  was  braided  into  her  black 
locks,  which  dangled  carelessly  over  her  shoulders,  while 
her  brow  was  wreathed  with  a  coronet  of  flowers.  She 
w^alked  on  clogs,  wooden  shoes  about  six  inches  high, 
which  gave  her  a  shuffling  step.  The  females  seen  in  the 
streets  do  not  look  quite  so  squalid  as  those  in  Cairo. 
Except  the  few  of  the  better  classes,  they  are  all  dressed 
either  in  white,  or  with  blue  linen,  or  cotton.  And,  as 
in  Egypt,  they  seem  more  scrupulous  to  cover  the  face 
than  any  other  part  of  the  body. 

It  is  said  there  are  over  300  mosques  (temples)  in  Da¬ 
mascus,  many  of  which  are  of  great  size  and  beauty. 
There  are  many  so-called  schools,  which  however  do  not 
amount  to  much.  If  at  all  in  operation,  they  at  most 
have  only  a  few  scores  of  children,  and  only  boys,  usually 
squatting  on  the  bare  ground,  while  a  grey-bearded  sheikh 
sits  knitting  in  a  corner,  as  he  leads  them  see-sawing  over 
a  few  leaves  of  the  Koran  by  rote,  all  shouting  its  verses 
in  unison.  Few  learn  to  read,  and  fewer  still  to  write. 

Lane,  in  his  Manners  and  Customs  of  the  Modern 
41  2  F 


482 


AN  INCOMPETENT  TEACHER. 


Egyptians,  gives  a  specimen  of  an  Egyptian  teaclier, 
■which  suits  equally  for  the  latitude  of  Damascus.  A  man 
in  his  neighborhood,  in  Cairo,  who  could  neither  read  nor 
write,  was  called  to  the  office  of  a  schoolmaster.  Having 
committed  the  Koran  to  memory,  he  could  hear  the  boys 
recite  their  lessons ;  to  write  them,  he  employed  the  head 
boy  in  the  school,  pretending  that  his  eyes  were  weak.  A 
poor  w'oman  brought  a  letter,  received  from  her  son, 
which  she  wished  him  to  read  for  her.  He  pretended  to 
read  it,  but  said  nothing.  The  woman  inferring  from 
his  silence  that  the  letter  contained  bad  news,  said  to 
him,  Shall  I  shriek?”  He  answered,  Yes.”  “  Shall 
I  tear  my  clothes,?”  she  asked;  he  replied,  ^‘Yes.”  So 
the  poor  woman  returned  to  her  house,  and  with  her  as¬ 
sembled  friends  performed  the  lamentation  and  other 
ceremonies  usual  on  the  occasion  of  a  death.  Not  many 
days  after  this  her  son  arrived,  and  she  asked  him  what 
he  could  mean  by  causing  a  letter  to  be  written  stating 
that  he  was  dead  ?  He  explained  the  contents,  and  she 
went  to  the  schoolmaster  and  begged  him  to  inform  her 
why  he  had  told  her  to  shriek  and  to  tear  her  clothes, 
since  the  letter  was  to  inform  her  that  her  son  was  well, 
and  he  has  now  arrived  at  home.  God  knows  futurity  !  ” 
said  the  sage  schoolmaster.  How  could  I  know  that 
your  son  would  arrive  in  safety  ?  It  was  better  that  you 
should  think  him  dead,  than  be  led  to  expect  to  see  him, 
and  perhaps  be  disappointed.”  Whereupon  some  of  the 
persons  present,  exclaimed,  Truly,  our  new  fikee  (school¬ 
master),  is  a  man  of  unusual  judgment.”  And  for  a  little 
while  he  found  that  he  had  raised  his  reputation  by  this 
blunder. 

The  Moslems  here  are  zealous  in  their  own  way.  I 
repeatedly  saw  merchants  reading  the  Koran  to  some 


THE  FAST  OF  RAMADAN. 


483 


blind  man,  or  one  that  could  not  read  himself,  while  they 
waited  for  a  customer.  Here,  as  in  Egypt,  religion  is 
almost  exclusively  confined  to  the  men.  Ahmed  remarked 
to  me  that  women  were  expected  to  pray  at  home,  and 
therefore  attended  no  worship  in  the  mosques.  But  he 
acknowledged  that  not  one  in  ten  of  those  remaining  at 
home  ever  prayed.  ‘‘But  how  is  that,  Ahmed?”  I  re¬ 
plied  ;  “  should  not  women  be  pious  as  well  as  men,  ami 
has  the  Prophet  no  room  for  them  in  heaven,  that  your 
religion  neither  teaches  them  to  pray  at  home,  nor  invites 
them  to  do  it  in  the  mosques?”  “It  is  too  bad,  my 
master,  but  so  it  is,”  he  replied.  “Mohammedan  women 
have  very  little  religion.” 

It  w^as  the  fasting  season  when  we  were  at  Damascus, 
the  month  of  Bamadan,  during  which  the  Koran  says 
all  faithful  Moslems  must  abstain  from  eating,  drinking, 
smoking,  smelling  perfumes,  and  even  intentionally  swal¬ 
lowing  spittle.  Every  day  from  dawn  —  when  there  is 
light  enough  to  distinguish  a  black  thread  from  a  white 
one  —  till  sunset,  they  must  practice  this  abstinence. 
When  Ramadan  falls  in  summer,  the  abstinence  from 
water  is  a  severe  trial.  Soldiers  in  war,  or  persons  on  a 
journey,  and  others,  are  exempt  from  the  duty.  Not¬ 
withstanding  this,  Eirage,  our  Nubian  boy,  has  strictly 
kept  the  fast  on  our  journey.  In  spite  of  our  remon¬ 
strance,  he  travelled  from  eight  to  ten„hours  a  day  in  the 
hot  sun,  without  tasting  a  drop  of  water  or  a  morsel  of 
bread,  from  early  morning  till  sunset. 

To  lighten  the  burden  of  this  task,  they  usually  make 
up  during  the  night  what  they  lose  in  day-time.  They 
indulge  in  all  manner  of  feasting  until  after  midnight, 
and  often  do  not  retire  till  toward  morning.  Some  sleep 
till  the  afternoon.  Many  of  the  shops  were  not  opened 


484 


NIGHT  FESTIVITIES. 


before  the  middle  of  the  forenoon,  and  the  streets  con- 
tinned  well-nigh  deserted  until  noon.  During  this  season, 
night  entertainments  are  furnished  to  the  men  at  the 
cafds  (coffee-houses).  We  spent  an  evening  in  one  of 
these  to  see  this  phase  of  Mohammedan  social  life.  A 
crowd  of  people  were  assembled  in  a  rude  court,  with  a. 
temporary  roof,  and  the  omnipresent  fountain  in  the 
centre.  Out  of  the  court  a  stairway  led  into  an  ad¬ 
joining  mosque.  The  entertainment  consisted  of  music 
and  smoking;  liquor,  the  bane  of, social  gatherings  in 
more  civilized  countries,  was  not  even  thought  of.  The 
band  sat  on  an  elevated  platform,  whose  instruments  con¬ 
sisted  of  a  discordant  violin,  a  tamborine,  and  something 
between  a  harp  and  the  inside  of  a  piano.  The  music 
was  better  than  we  heard  in  Cairo,  but  still  bad  enough ; 
and  the  screeching  voices  of  the  singers  were  hard  to  en¬ 
dure.  The  party  seemed  greatly  delighted,  and  withal 
remarkably  quiet.  The  few  that  conversed  any,  did  it 
in  a  suppressed  tone  of  voice.  Nearly  all  were  smoking, 
raising  a  cloud  which  helped  to  obscure  the  few  dim 
lights  that  were  used.  Soon  after  we  entered,  pipes  were 
handed  to  us,  with  w'hich  we  helped  to  increase  the  dark¬ 
ness.  Being  kindly  invited  into  an  adjoining  barber-shop, 
the  proprietor  gave  us  other  pipes.  He  was  a  talkative 
fellow,  and  had  many  questions  to  ask,  among  others, 
what  hour  of  the  day  it  then  was  in  our  country,  and 
whether  we  had  not  discovered  a  hill  of  gold.  In  the 
East,  where  all  the  boys  and  men  have  their  heads  shaved, 
barbers  often  have  their  hands  full  of  w-ork.  We  re¬ 
mained  at  the  cafd  till  ten  at  night,  and  then  groped  our 
way  homeward  through  dark,  winding  streets.  For  the 
last  six  months  (summer  of  1860),  no  Christian  could 
have  mingled  with  such  an  assembly,  and  gone  through 


AN  ORIENTAL  BATH. 


485 


the  dark  streets  of  Damascus  near  midnight,  without 
periling  his  life. 

I  nowhere  met  with  anything  that  resembled  a  grog¬ 
shop  in  the  East.  Coffee-houses  abound,  of  which  there 
are  said  to  be  one  thousand  in  Cairo.  Some  of  them  fur¬ 
nish  their  customers  with  hasheesh,  an  intoxicating  drug 
which  produces  an  exhilarating  sensation.  But  few  deal 
in  anything  stronger  than  coffee.  These  places  are  gene¬ 
rally  held  in  small  apartments,  whose  front  on  the  street 
is  of  open  wood-work  in  the  form  of  arches.  A  raised 
seat  of  stone  or  brick  is  placed  along  the  front,  covered 
with  matting,  and  also  along  the  walls  within  the  room. 
Nothing  hut  coffee  is  served  ;  the  pipes  are  usually  brought 
along.  Only  the  middle  and  lower  classes  visit  them,  and 
these  mostly  in  the  afternoon  and  evening.  Musicians 
and  story-tellers  frequent  some  to  entertain  the  visitors. 
The  coffee-houses  in  Jerusalem  were  crowded  during  the 
last  Easter  season. 

The  Mahommedans  regard  bathing  as  a  religious  duty. 
To  the  thoroughness  of  their  baths  I  can  bear  testimony 
from  experience.  Calling  at  a  prominent  bathing  estab¬ 
lishment  one  morning,  I  was  led  into  a  large  hall.  A 
lofty  dome,  painted  with  trees,  cottages,  and  gushing 
springs,  rose  over  the  fountain  and  reservoir  in  the  cen¬ 
tre.  Led  upon  an  elevated  platform,  my  clothing  had  to 
give  place  to  a  set  of  towels,  and  the  head  was  enveloped 
in  a  heavy  thick  cloth.  Thrusting  my  feet  into  clogs  six 
inches  high — simply  a  wooden  sole  on  two  board  props — 
I  stalked  away  over  the  slippery  marble  floor  like  a  prb 
soner,  with  a  man  at  each  arm.  The  pavement  was  so 
smooth  that  I  felt  like  a  man  first  learning  to  skate. 
Every  successive  room  grew  hotter,  until  the  vapory  heat 
brought  profuse  perspiration  from  every  pore.  Finally  I 
41  * 


486 


PLEASANT  SENSATIONS. 


was  set  on  the  smooth  floor  beside  a  pool  of  water,  which 
was  poured  on  the  head  in  large  buckets-full,  and  felt 
hot  enough  to  scald  the  skin  off.  Then  a  lank  muscular 
grey-bearded  Syrian  laid  me  down  and  set  to  scraping 
me  with  something  like  a  fine  fuller’s  card,  turning  and 
rolling  me  over  without  much  ceremony.  After  pouring 
a  tub-full  of  soap-suds  over  me,  his  brawny  hands  per¬ 
formed  the  squashing  operation  of  a  rubbing  process,  not 
even  excepting  the  face.  This  ordeal  ended,  I  was  arrayed 
in  dry  strips  of  linen,  escorted  hack  to  where  I  started 
from,  and  passed  into  new  hands,  muffled  in  a  new  set 
of  towels,  and  laid  on  a  mattress.  Here  a  fellow  took 
me  through  a  kneading  process,  an  operation  which  would 
certainly  relieve  'the  most  hide-hound  being.  This  done, 
he  cracked  the  joints ;  nothing  short  of  a  crack  would 
do,  which  sometimes  required  no  little  twisting.  Toes, 
knee-joints,  hips,  shoulders,  elbows,  wrists,  fingers  —  he 
did  not  venture  to  twist  the  neck — all  had  to  submit  to  a 
torture.  And,  to  cap  the  climax,  he  must  rasp  the  soles 
of  the  feet  with  the  rough  surface  of  an  iron  scraper.  I 
bit  my  lips  with  stoical  submission,  and  resolved  to  en¬ 
dure,  while  the  rogue  looked  up  with  a  grinning  smile, 
but  still  rasped  on. 

Rolled  into  a  dry  sheet,  I  was  then  laid  on  a  divan, 
{ind  while  resting  from  their  well-meant  tortures,  as  a 
special  favor,  they  brought  me  a  glass  of  sherbet,  a  kind 
of  ice-lemonade,  but  the  pipe  had  positively  to  be  with¬ 
held  during  Ramadan.  Then  only  I  began  to  feel  the 
.charming  effects  of  the  operation.  A  sense  of  fresh 
buoyant  life  seemed  to  enter  at  every  pore.  It  is  quite 
natural  that,  after  such  a  scalding,  fulling,  lathering, 
kneading,  joint-cracking,  bone-stretching  operation,  one 
should  feel  as  if  he  had  never  been  clean  before. 


HABITUAL  PRAYING. 


487 


Reclining  on  the  divan,  and  inhaling  the  first  soothing 
draughts  of  this  purified  state,  I  noticed  a  Moslem  on  an 
opposite  platform,  with  his  fuming  towels  around  him, 
saying  his  prayers,  and  performing  his  various  bows  and 
prostrations.  It  is  astonishing  with  what  a  business-like 
air  these  Mohammedans  attend  to  their  religious  devo¬ 
tions.  Their  connecting  religion  with  anything  and  every¬ 
thing,  praying  at  the  bath  and  at  their  business,  might 
lead  one  to  consider  them  pious  in  their  own  way.  But 
they  pray  just  as  they  eat,  or  put  on  their  clothes,  or  at¬ 
tend  to  trade.  Habit  and  hypocrisy  have  more  to  do 
with  their  prayers  than  conscience  and  an  active  sincere 
faith.  Porter  says,  in  his  Five  Years  in  Damascus : 
“  Moslems  spend  their  time  between  indolence  and  in¬ 
dulgence,  wandering  with  solemn  step  from  the  harem  to 
the  bath,  and  from  the  bath  to  the  mosque.  They  are 
emphatically  a  praying  people,  and  so  are  they  a  w^ashing 
people ;  and  there  is  just  as  much  religion  in  their  ablu¬ 
tions  as  there  is  in  their  devotions.  Prayer  with  them  is 
a  simple  performance.  They  pray  as  they  eat,  or  as  they 
sleep,  or  as  they  perform  their  toilet.  These  are  all 
matters  of  course,  parts  of  the  daily  routine,  performed 
wdth  the  same  care  and  with  the  same  solemnity.” 

The  Associate  Reformed  Church  of  the  United  States 
has  an  interesting  mission  here.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Robson, 
Rev,  Mr.  Frazer,  and  Miss  Dales,  have  been  laboring 
here  wdth  considerable  success.  Miss  Dales  had  an  in- 
terestino:  mission -school.  Two  of  her  scholars,  little 
girls  aged  eleven  and  tw'elve  years,  daughters  of  wealthy 
Jews,  were  already  engaged  to  be  married.  The  society 
and  kindness  of  these  dear  friends  in  this  benighted  city 
I  shall  never  forget.  No  one  knows  how  to  enjoy  news¬ 
papers,  until  he  has  been  deprived  of  them  for  months. 


488 


CHRISTIANS  IN  DAMASCUS. 


in  an  out-of-the  way  part  of  the  world.  How  intently 
we  pored  over  the  Pittsburg  Missionary^  the  Presbyte¬ 
rian,  and  the  Philadelphia  Inquirer,  which  our  friends 
had  given  us,  devouring  column  after  column  with  dash¬ 
ing  relish  !  Once  you  lose  the  thread  of  current  events 
in  your  country,  one-half  of  what  you  read  becomes  a 
riddle ;  but  in  spite  of  this,  your  eyes  flit  over  paragraph 
and  page  with  infinite  zest.  They  have  a  neat  little 
mission  church,  where  we  had  the  pleasure  of  worshipping 
with  them  on  the  Lord’s  day.  The  church  has  a  raised 
floor  at  each  end,  with  a  fountain  and  basin  in  the  mid¬ 
dle,  where  it  is  lowered.  The  seats  are  low  divans,  where 
you  feel  almost  the  same  as  sitting  on  the  floor.  The 
most  influential  member  of  this  church,  and  indeed  one 
of  the  leading  men  of  Syria,  is  Dr.  Meshakah.  At  pre¬ 
sent  he  is  the  American  Vice-Consul  of  Damascus.  He 
called  on  us,  and  kindly  offered  us  any  service  we  needed. 
He  is  a  tall  stout  man,  about  sixty  years  of  age,  with  a 
smiling  countenance,  florid  complexion,  and  a  grey 
beard,  —  a  most  patriarchal  figure.  He  is  said  to  be  a 
highly  intelligent  man.  The  corruptions  and  inconsist¬ 
encies  of  the  Armenian  Church  drove  him  to  the  verge  of 
unbelief,  from  which  he  was  rescued  by  the  missionaries. 

The  rising  of  the  Druses  and  Mohammedans  in  Syria 
within  the  last  six  months  has  made  terrible  havoc  with 
this  mission.  Miss  Dales  had  before  started  a  promising 
mission-school  in  Alexandria.  But  the  rest  were  still 
there.  The  missionaries  all  escaped  from  Damascus,  ex¬ 
cept  Mr.  Graham,  from  Ireland,  who  was  killed.  In  his 
zeal  to  protect  and  save  others,  Dr.  Meshakah  was 
seriously  wounded,  and  some  of  his  children  were  cut  to 
pieces  in.  his  presence. 

Two  hundred  yards  from  ‘‘the  street  called  Straight,” 


ANTIQUITY  OP  DAMASCUS. 


489 


is  a  cave,  fitted  up  as  a  chapel,  called  the  house  of  Ana¬ 
nias.  Here  tradition  has  located  the  interview  between 
Ananias  and  the  angel.  Acts  9  :  17.  Outside  of  the 
city  a  place  is  shown  along  the  wall  where  the  disciples 
are  said  to  have  let  Saul  down  in  a  basket.  Acts  9  :  25. 
Doubtful  as  these  localities  are,  one  thing  is  certain,  that 
somewhere  on  this  large  plain,  be  it  two  miles  or  five  from 
the  city,  the  startling  conversion  of  Saul  occurred.  It 
was  “  near  Damascus,^’  when  suddenly  a  light  shone  from 
heaven,  and  he  fell  to  the  ground,  and  the  voice  came, 
“Saul,  Saul,  why  persecutest  thou  me?”  Acts  9.  In 
this  city  he  tarried  in  blindness  for  a  while,  and  when  his 
sight  was  restored  “  he  straightway  preached  Christ  in 
the  synagogues,  that  he  is  the  Son  of  God.” 

Damascus,  about  200  miles  from  Jerusalem,  is  one  of 
the  oldest,  if  not  the  oldest,  existing  cities  in  the  known 
world.  It  has  outlived  all  the  revolutions,  changes,  and 
stirring  events  of  4000  years.  Nineveh,  Babylon,  and 
Memphis  exist  only  in  buried  ruins,  but  here  is  a  populous, 
swarming  city,  which  Abraham  saw,  and  whose  streets  he 
doubtless  trod.  Coming  from  Chaldea  with  Terah  his 
father,  and  from  Mesopotamia  to  Canaan,  he  most  pro¬ 
bably  came  over  this  plain.  Gen.  11  :  31.  He  pursued 
the  kings  who  carried  off  Lot  “  unto  Hobah,  which  is  on 
the  left  hand  of  Damascus.”  Gen.  14  :  15.  And  Eliezer, 
his  steward,  was  “  of  Damascus.”  Gen.  15  :  2.  “David 
put  garrisons  in  Syria  of  Damascus,”  when  he  warred 
with  a  king  on  the  Euphrates.  2  Sam.  8  :  6.  Solomon 
again  lost  the  city  (1  Kings  11  :  24),  and  Jeroboam  took 
it  again.  2  Kings  14  ;  28. 

Abana  and  Pharpar,  the  “rivers  of  Damascus,”  are 
still  found  here ;  dashing,  noisy  streams,  clear  as  crystal. 
The  former  emerges  out  of  the  crooked,  craggy  ravines 


490 


RIVERS  OF  DAMASCUS. 


of  the  Anti-Libanus,  not  far  from  Damascus ;  the  latter 
springs  at  the  foot  of  Mount  Hermon,  and  both  empty 
into  lakes  beyond  the  city.  The  Abana  is  larger  than 
the  Pharpar,  hence  its  name  occurs  first  of  the  two. 
Pharpar  passes  the  city  at  a  distance  of  several  miles, 
but  Abana  is  carried  into  every  quarter  of  it  by  canals. 
These  canals  fetch  its  waters  high  up  the  mountain,  and 
play  it  from  every  fountain  in  garden,  mosque,  and 
dwelling.  In  ancient  times,  as  now,  their  waters  exten¬ 
sively  served  for  bathing  and  domestic  use,  as  well  as  to 
water  the  land.  When  Naaman,  the  Syrian  leper,  was 
told  by  Elisha  to  wash  in  the  Jordan,  he  exclaimed : 
“Are  not  Abana  and  Pharpar,  rivers  of  Damascus,  better 
than  all  the  waters  of  Israel?”  2  Kings  5  :  12.  So  far 
as  the  natural  appearance  of  these  different  rivers  is  con¬ 
cerned,  the  clear  crystal  streams  of  Abana  and  Pharpar 
would  strike  the  mind  of  a  heathen  more  favorably  than 
the  milky  waters  of  the  Jordan,  especially  away  down 
at  Grilgal. 

Damascus  then  already  was  the  head  of  Syria  —  a 
city  that,  in  point  of  luxury  and  wealth,  compared  favor¬ 
ably  with  Samaria.  Isaiah  7  :  8 ;  8  :  4 ;  10  :  9.  It  still 
excels  in  the  manufacturing  of  certain  articles.  The  Da¬ 
mascus  silk,  cotton  goods,  and  steel  blades  have  become 
famous  all  over  the  world.  Its  chief  trade  now,  however, 
is  carried  on  with  the  Bedouin  tribes  that  people  the  vast 
plains  of  Arabia.  In  its  bazaars  the  greater  part  of 
Syria  and  the  whole  of  Mesopotamia  do  their  shopping. 
When  Ezekiel  wrote  it  supplied  Tyre,  the  Queen  of  Sea¬ 
ports,  with  her  costly  goods.  “  Damascus  was  thy  mer¬ 
chant  in  the  multitude  of  the  wares  of  thy  making,  for 
the  multitude  of  all  riches.”  Ezekiel  27  :  18. 

Damascus  is  chiefly  situated  on  the  southern  bank  of 


POPULATION  OF  DAMASCUS. 


491 


the  Abana,  Mitb  part  of  its  suburbs  on  tbe  northern. 
Before  tbe  river  leaves  the  mountain,  a  number  of  canals 
carry  off  its  water  to  different  parts  of  tbe  plain.  Two 
of  these  canals  supply  the  city  and  its  surrounding  gar¬ 
dens.  This  oasis,  in  which  Damascus  is  embosomed,  is 
about  twenty-five  miles  in  circumference.  Beyond  this 
is  a  fruitless  waste ;  only  where  the  river-water  reaches 
is  there  life  and  verdure.  On  account  of  its  limited 
agricultural  products  it  has  always  been  measurably  de¬ 
pendent  on  mercantile  and  manufacturing  resources. 
The  plain  in  which  it  is  located  contains  an  area  of  about 
two  hundred  and  thirty-six  square  miles.  Eastward  from 
the  city  are  three  lakes,  into  which  “  the  rivers  of  Da¬ 
mascus”  empty.  The  city  itself  does  not  cover  so  much 
ground ;  perhaps  an  area  of  two  by  three  miles  in  size. 
Formerly  it  had  three  walls  around  it,  now  only  one,  and 
this  partly  in  ruins.  The  narrow  streets  enable  them  to 
push  the  houses  close  together.  I  saw  two  men,  with 
laden  donkeys,  meet  in  one  of  these  streets,  where  the 
one  had  to  turn  back  to  let  the  other  pass.  The  popu¬ 
lation  of  the  city  is  variously  estimated  at  from  150,000 
to  200,000.  Of  these  about  25,000  are  Christians  (Greeks, 
Armenians,  Latins,  and  Maronites),  and  four  or  five  thou¬ 
sand  Jews.  The  rest  are  Mohammedans. 

In  nearly  all  Mohammedan  countries,  crazy  people  are 
regarded  with  superstitious  reverence.  What  Lane  says, 
in  his  “Manners  and  Customs  of  the  Egyptians,”  applies 
to  many  other  nations :  “An  idiot  or  a  fool  is  vulgarly 
regarded  by  them  as  a  being  whose  mind  is  in  heaven, 
while  his  grosser  part  mingles  among  ordinary  mortals ; 
consequently  he  is  considered  an  especial  favorite  of 
heaven.  Whatever  enormities  a  reputed  saint  may  com¬ 
mit  (and  there  are  many  who  are  constantly  infringing 


i92  LUNATICS  AND  DEMONIACS. 

precepts  of  their  religion),  such  acts  do  not  affect  his 
fame  for  sanctity  ;  for  they  are  considered  as  the  results 
of  the  abstraction  of  his  mind  from  earthly  things ;  his 
soul,  or  reasoning  faculties,  being  wholly  absorbed  in 
devotion,  so  that  his  passions  are  left  without  control. 
Lunatics  who  are  dangerous  to  society  are  kept  in  con¬ 
finement  ;  but  those  who  are  harmless  are  generally  re¬ 
garded  as  saints.  Most  of  the  reputed  saints  of  Egypt 
are  either  lunatics  or  idiots,  or  impostors.” 

In  one  of  the  most  crowded  streets  of  Damascus  I  re¬ 
peatedly  met  one  of  the  modern  demoniacs,  with  no 
clothes  on  but  a  few  rags  around  his  loins.  His  violent 
gesticulations  and  repulsive  features  were  enough  to  in¬ 
spire  any  one  with  terror,  and  yet  neither  men  nor  wmmen 
seemed  to  fear  or  avoid  him.  It  would  seem  that  this 
unfortunate  class  of  beings  were  treated  with  similar 
respect  by  the  ancients,  and  were  even  admitted  into 
their  religious  assemblies.  Our  Saviour  found  the  ‘‘man 
with  an  unclean  spirit”  at  Capernaum  in  the  synagogue. 
Mark  1  :  23. 

There  are  many  traits  of  character  and  custom  in 
which  the  Arabs  and  Turks  are  our  antipodes.  They 
shave  the  head  but  not  the  chin,  and  we  the  reverse. 
With  us  the  uncovering  of  the  head  in  the  presence  of 
another  is  a  mark  of  respect,  with  them  a  mark  of 
disrespect.  When  they  go  into  a  place  of  worship,  they 
keep  on  the  hat  and  take  olF  the  shoes  or  slippers  ;  we 
do  the  opposite.  They  mount  on  the  right  side  of  a 
horse,  and  we  on  the  left.  They  write  from  right  to  left, 
we  from  left  to  right.  We  show  our  good-breeding  by 
taking  the  outside  when  we  pass  persons  on  the  street, 
they  by  passing  nearest  to  the  wall.  They  do  the  honors 
of  the  table  by  serving  themselves  first,  we  by  serving 


ARABIAN  WEDLOCK. 


493 


ourselves  last.  If  a  friend  inquires  after  jour  wife,  you 
regard  it-as  a  compliment ;  to  inquire  after  theirs  is  an 
insult.  Their  mourning-dress  is  white,  ours  black.  They 
finish  their  wooden  houses  from  the  top  downwards,  aud 
we  from  the  foundation  up.  The  men  wear  frocks,  and 
the  wmmen  pantaloons.  We  wash  the  hands  by  dipping 
them  in  water,  they  by  having  water  poured  upon  them. 

The  Bedouin  tribes  of  Arabia  retain  many  of  the  patri¬ 
archal  customs.  Frequently  cousins  are'married  together, 
as  in  the  case  of  some  of  the  patriarchs.  Abraham,  send¬ 
ing  his  servant  to  his  own  -country  to  seek  a  wife  for 
Isaac,  is  what  every  Arab  father  does  under  similar  cir¬ 
cumstances.  Gen.  24.  Save  in  exceptional  cases,  the 
“first-born”  daughter  is  always  given  in  marriage  before 
her  younger  sisters,  as  Laban  tried  to  do.  Gen.  29  :  26. 
They  do  not  always  stop,  however,  with  a  Leah  and 
Rachel.  An  old  patriarch  of  our  caravan  through  Ara¬ 
bia  Petrsea  had  an  extensive  experience'  in  this  respect. 
Stroking  his  long  grey  beard  one  day,  he  remarked : 
“  Four-and-twenty  wives  has  Allah  (exalted  be  his  name !) 
given  me.  The  widow  of  the  Sheikh  of  Petra  sent  a  mes¬ 
sage,  to  the  intent  that  she  wushed  to  become  my  wife. 
My  first  wife  she  became ;  and  the  best  of  the  four-and- 
twenty  has  she  been  to  me.”  Bedouin  etiquette  regards 
it  uncourteous  for  a  man  to  decline  a  proposal  for  mar¬ 
riage  coming  from  a  woman.  It  must  not  be  supposed, 
however,  that  this  man  was  wedded  to  these  two  dozen 
wives  all  at  the  same  time.  The  bonds  of  Arab  wedlock 
are  not  very  firmly  riveted,  so  that  they  unite  and  sepa¬ 
rate  without  much  ceremony. 

On  the  morning  of  the  5th  of  May  we  kissed  the  hand 
to  our  host  Antonio  of  Damascus,  and  received  his  part¬ 
ing  salaam.  The  tramp  of  our  horses,  the  coarse  jeers 
42 


494 


DEPARTURE  FROM  DAMASCUS. 


of  our  muleteers,  and  the  tiny  hells  of  their  mules,  pro¬ 
duced  strange  echoes  in  the  narrow-roofed  streets,  still 
empty.  We  threaded  our  way  out  through  the  gate,  then 
along  the  canals,  through  a  considerable  village,  and  up 
the  mountain  side.  The  sun  shining  on  the  bare  white 
lime  rocks,  was  painfully  glaring.  Large  flocks  of 
donkeys  with  bales  of  wood  met  us,  already  coming  down 
the  mountain.  On  a  blufi’  of  the  mountain,  like  that  on 
which  the  tower  of  Lebanon,  which  ‘‘looketh  toward  Da¬ 
mascus,”  stood  (Solomon’s  Song  7  :  4),  we  got  our  last 
and  best  view  of  Damascus.  Its  houses,  temples,  and 
turrets,  shone  with  almost  snowy  whiteness.  Like  most 
things  in  this  sinful  world,  it  appears  best  from  a  distance. 
Through  the  pure  sunny  morning  air  its  rude  mud-walls 
and  homely  dwellings  shone  with  spotless  lustre.  The 
white  city  embowered  among  green  gardens  of  trees  and 
flowers  and  fields  of  grain,  with  tree-tops  and  white 
minarets  v^dng  for  the  ascendency,  presented  a  scene  not 
easily  forgotten.  On  one  of  these  mountain  heights,  now 
hallowed  by  “  the  caverns  and  tombs  of  a  thousand 
Mussulman  saints,”  Mohammed  is  said  to  have  stood 
when  yet  a  camel-driver  from  Mecca,  and  after  gazing 
on  the  enchanting  scene  he  turned  away  without  entering 
Damascus,  with  this  remark :  Man  can  have  but  one 
paradise,  and  my  paradise  is  fixed  above.”  Julian  called 
it  the  “  Eye  of  the  East.”  It  remains  the  queen  of  oriental 
cities,  the  Paradise  of  Syria ;  a  city  of  flowers,  sparkling 
with  crystal  fountains  and  flowing  rivers.  The  streams 
of  Lebanon,  and  the  “rivers  of  Damascus,”  purl  and 
sparkle  in  this  wilderness  of  “  Syrian  gardens.” 

In  a  crooked  narrow  valley  we  reached  a  rapid  moun¬ 
tain  river,  along  whose  banks,  strewn  with  groves,  fruitful 
fields  and  villages,  we  continued  for  several  hours.  A 


B  AALBEC. 


495 


violent  thunder-shower  overtook  us  at  mid-day,  from 
which  we  fled  into  a  cave  in  the  rocks.  Quite  a  number 
of  these  remain  along  here,  hewn  out  of  the  sides  of  the 
mountains.  Across  another  hill  'we  reached  a  rich  plain, 
between  the  Lebanon  and  the  Anti-Lebanon,  on  which 
spread  out  a  variegated  scene  of  villages,  streams,  and 
green  fields,  bordered  with  bald  mountains.  A  broad 
well-used  road  stretched  along  through  vineyards,  fig  and 
mulberry  gardens,  and  even  with  a  sprinkling  of  apple 
and  pear  trees.  The  streams  were  shaded  by  willows 
and  tall  silvery  poplar.  We  encamped  about  twenty 
minutes  from  Zebedenai,  a  village  of  small  farmers.  The 
next  morning  w^e  rode  through  the  town,  consisting  of  a 
group  of  houses  scattered  among  trees  and  gardens.  We 
spent  the  day  by  successively  ascending  and  descending, 
here  meeting  a  few  ploughing  in  a  glen  and  there  others 
leading  their  flocks  and  herds  to  pasture,  hoping  on  every 
succeeding  hill-top  to  see  Baalbec.  Finally  we  reached 
the  edge  of  the  mountain  which  overlooks  the  valley  of 
Coele-Syria,  formed  by  the  Lebanon  and  Anti-Lebanon. 
A  violent  thunder-storm  arose ;  peal  after  peal  fell  from 
the  black  frowning  clouds.  It  was  a  dismal  ride,  that 
longing  approach  to  the  city  of  the  sun.  At  length  we 
suddenly  came  .upon  erect  broken  columns,  then  to  the 
village  of  Baalbec  and  its  ancient  temple  of  the  sun. 

Baalbec  is  supposed  to  be  the  Baalath  of  the  Scrip¬ 
tures  (1  Kings  9  :  18),  the  Baalhamon  where  Solomon 
had  a  large  vineyard.  Solomon’s  Song  8  :  11.  Some  also 
locate  his  house  of  the  forest  of  Lebanon  here.  1  Kings 
7  :  2.  These  hills  and  the  eastern  slope  of  Lebanon,  first 
greeted  by  the  morning  sun,  are  admirably  adapted  for 
the  cultivation  of  the  grape,  producing  wine  of  sweetest 
flavor.  In  later  times,  about  the  Christian  era,  it  re- 


496 


TEMPLE  OF  BAAL. 


ceived  the  name  of  Heliopolis,  that  is,  city  of  the  sun.” 
Like  the  one  in  Egypt,  it  became  the  centre  of  sun-wor¬ 
ship,  as  the  sun  or  Baal  was  one  of  the  chief  gods  of 
ancient  Syria.  Anciently  a  populous  and  extensive  city, 
it  now  contains  only  some  fifteen  hundred  or  two  thousand 
inhabitants.  About  one-fourth  of  these  are  Oriental 
Christians.  The  present  town  is  built  on  the  ruins  of  the 
ancient  one,  fragments  of  whose  glory  strew  its  streets 
and  fields. 

The  most  interesting  remains  of  ancient  Baalbec  are 
two  massive  temples.  The  largest  one  stands  on  an  artifi¬ 
cial  platform,  twenty  or  thirty  feet  above  the  contiguous 
plain,  and  is  a  thousand  feet  long  from  east  to  west.  On 
the  south  of  this  is  the  temple  of  Baal,  the  sun-god, 
which  is  about  one-fourth  as  long.  This  was  surrounded 
by  forty  Corinthian  columns,  eighteen  of  which  are  yet 
standing  erect  in  their  places.  These  columns  were 
usually  formed  of  three  pieces,  and  are  so  tightly  joined 
that  some  have  not  been  broken  asunder  by  their  fall. 
They  are  seven  feet  in  diameter  and  from  sixty  to  seventy 
feet  in  height.  The  temples  were  entered  through  lofty 
porticoes.  Within  are  chambers,  which  perhaps  were 
occupied  by  priests  and  others  engaged  in  the  temple 
service.  The  main  entrance  into  one  of  the  temples  is 
through  a  large  arched  gateway,  the  keystone  of  which 
has  slipped  down  half  out  of  its  place.  A  large  eagle  is 
carved  on  the  lower  side  of  the  stone  wdth  keys  in  his 
talons.  The  floors  are  covered  with  broken  columns,  stone 
blocks  and  rubbish.  Under  these  temples  are  subterra¬ 
nean  tunnels,  with  arched  ceilings,  through  which  the 
religious  processions  of  some  of  these  ancient  idolaters 
may  have  passed.  Out  of  this  confused  mass  of  ruins 
rise  six  Corinthian  columns  seventy  feet  high,  with  their 


IMAGNIFICENT  RUINS. 


497 


tops  joined  at  the  cornice,  which  they  lift  high  above 
their  prostrate  fellows.  They  are  unsupported  at  the 
top,  and  their  bases  have  been  chiselled  and  narrowed 
away,  and  still  they  stand  in  spite  of  war  and  time.  The 
foliage  carved  on  the  chapiters  and  ceiling  around  some 
of  the  columns  is  still  perfect,  and  shows  what  progress 
the  ancients  had  made  in  the  art  of  sculpture.  No  de¬ 
scription  can  give  an  adequate  conception  of  the  grandeur 
and  magnificence  of  these  temples,  even  as  they  now  ap¬ 
pear,  in  vast  heaps  of  confused  fragments.  When  com¬ 
plete,  with  thousands  of  worshippers  streaming  between 
their  lofty  columns  and  through  their  high  arches,  the 
sight  must  have  been  surpassingly  grand. 

The  parts  of  the  wall  which  still  remain,  look  firm 
enough  to  stand  till  the  end  of  time.  There  are  blocks 
of  limestone  in  the  wall  from  fifty  to  sixty-five  feet  long, 
and  of  a  corresponding  depth  and  thickness.  These  are 
twenty-five  feet  from  the  floor,  and,  measuring  the  arti¬ 
ficial  base  on  which  the  temple  stands,  fifty  feet  above 
the  ground  around  its  base.  In  one  of  the  ancient  quar¬ 
ries,  about  a  mile  from  Baalbec,  we  found  a  block  which, 
according  to  Robinson,  is  sixty-eight  feet  four  inches  long, 
seventeen  feet  two  inches  wide,  and  fourteen  feet  seven 
inches  high.  Five  sides  are  perfectly  dressed,  while  the 
base  is  not  yet  cut  loose  from  the  rock.  From  this  it 
would  seem  that  they  dressed  their  building-stones  before 
they  quarried  them,  not  cutting  the  base  off  from  the 
solid  rock  until  all  the  other  parts  had  been  finished.  We 
speak  of  the  progress  of  physical  science ;  but  whether 
modern  architects  could  convey  a  solid  block  of  limestone 
as  high  as  a  three-story  house,  if  raised  on  its  end,  one 
mile  from  the  quarry  to  the  building,  and  raise  it  into  the 
wall  fifty  feet  above  ground,  is  a  question.  The  wonder 
42*  2q 


498  SITUATION  OF  ANCIENT  TEMPLES. 

is,  not  that  we  have  progressed  so  far  in  advance  of  the 
ancients,  but  so  little.  Thanks  to  Revelation  and  Chris¬ 
tianity,  the  world  has  morally  gained  much  since  then, 
but  in  many  branches  of  science  we  are  hardly  where 
they  left  off. 

Temples  are  always  built  in  the  neighborhood  of  a 
spring  or  stream  of  water.  A  clear  large  fountain  gushes 
out  of  the  earth  near  these  ruins;  and  on  its  bank  is  an¬ 
other  smaller  circular  temple,  fast  falling  to  pieces. 
Perched  on  the  western  wall  of  the  temple  of  Baal,  I 
watched  the  sun  sinking  behind  Lebanon,  and  his  red 
light  as  it  lingered  on  the  tall  columns  which  rose  around 
me.  Lacking  spiritual  guidance  and  illumination,  the  an¬ 
cient  Coel e-Syrians  felt  around  in  the  dark  for  the  Divine 
Being.  Feeling  the  need  of  moral  light,  how  natural 
that  they  should  select  the  symbol  of  Divine  Light  and 
truth  for  their  object  of  worship.  Here  in  this  plain  he 
shone  with  special  lustre.  Long  before  he  rose  they  could 
see  his  coming  light  on  the  tops  of  Lebanon,  as  we  did. 
Long  after  he  set,  his  lingering  light  gilded  the  summit 
of  the  Anti-Lebanon.  Here  beside  this  stream  they  built 
him  a  temple,  to  seek  light  for  their  souls.  All  this  was 
a  prophecy  of  the  rising  of  ‘‘the  light  of  the  world,’* 
which  came  “  to  lighten  the  Gentiles.”  Luke  2  :  32.  Still 
I  meditated  amid  the  ruins,  on  the  builders  and  early 
occupants  of  these  gigantic  structures,  until  the  shrill 
hoot  of  an  owl  on  a  contiguous  wall,  bid  me  repair  to 
the  tents  before  it  became  wholly  dark. 

Baalbec  has  also  suffered  by  the  late  Syrian  wars 
(1860).  The  blood-thirsty  fiendish  frenzy  has  swept  over 
this  region  like  the  sword  of  the  Destroying  Angel. 
During  one  week,  nearly  1100  men,  women,  and  children, 
were  daily  killed  in  Damascus.  In  this  Lebanon  district, 


A  FIELD  OF  CARNAGE. 


499 


12,000  persons  have  been  murdered,  besides  those  who 
have  fallen  in  open  fight.  More  than  220  churches  have 
been  destroyed,  200  priests  butchered,  163  villages  de¬ 
molished,  and  more  than  seventy  millions  of  dollars’  worth 
of  property  has  been  annihilated.  An  Eastern  custom 
leaves  the  murdered  dead  unburied,  until  their  murderers 
have  been  brought  to  justice.  For  months  after,  10,000 
human  bodies  were  lying  around  Mount  Hermon,  in  full 
view  from  the  Sea  of  Galilee  and  the  Mediterranean,  and 
in  the  plain  of  Sidon,  the  Phoenicia  of  the  ancients.  The 
Syrian  climate  requires  the  dead  to  be  buried  within 
twenty-four  hours  after  their  decease ;  and  yet,  strange 
to  say,  those  which  the  hyenas  and  wolves  had  not  eaten, 
blackened  and  crisped  like  Egyptian  mummies,  without 
undergoing  decomposition.  In  palaces  and  barracks,  in 
deserted  villages  and  tenantless  houses,  by  the  way  and 
in  the  field,  wherever  they  fell  there  they  were  still  lying, 
their  ghastly  features  crying  to  heaven  for  vengeance 
upon  their  cruel  murderers. 

About  twenty-five  miles  north-east  of  Baalbec,  6400 
feet  above  the  sea,  are  the  celebrated  cedars,  the  pro¬ 
geny  of  the  ancient  “cedars  of  Lebanon.”  We  received 
word  that  the  deep  snow  in  that  region  would  render  an 
attempted  visit  there  impossible.  Different  travellers 
give  their  number  from  350  to  400.  The  old  trees  are 
very  large,  which  some  writers  suppose  to  be  as  old  as 
the  reign  of  Solomon.  Robinson  says  :  “  They  form  a 
thick  forest,  without  underbrush.  The  older  trees  have 
each  several  trunks,  and  thus  spread  themselves  widely 
around.”  The  wood  is  hard  and  lasting,  and  better  than 
any  other  for  building  purposes.  Hiram,  king  of  Tyre, 
sent  his  servants  up  here  to  hew  down  cedar  trees  for 
Solomon,  and  take  them  down  to  the  sea,  and  convey 


500 


THE  CEDARS  OF  LEBANON. 


them  in  floats  to  Joppa,  for  the  building  of  the  temple. 
1  Kings  5.  The  onlj  parable  in  the  Old  Testament 
speaks  of  “  the  cedars  of  Lebanon.”  Judges  9  :  15. 
The  Psalmist  gratefully  enumerates  the  cedars  of  Lebanon 
among  the  wonderful  works  of  God.  Psalm  104  :  16. 
Their  lofty  waving  tops  are  a  figure  of  the  proud  whom 
the  Lord  will  bring  low.  Isaiah  2  :  13.  When  God 
spared  Israel  and  destroyed  their  foes,  his  people  were 
like  these  cedars  which  the  axe  never  molested.  Isaiah 
14  :  8.  Their  tall  tough  trunks  were  used  to  make  the 
masts  of  the  Tyrian  ships.  Ezekiel  27  :  5.  Solomon’s 
chariot  was  made 'of  their  wood.  The  cedar  was  the  most 
noble  representative  of  the  vegetable  kingdom.  It  was 
the  highest  and  the  hyssop  the  lowest  of  plants.  1  Kings 
4  :  33.  The  refreshing  vitalizing  influence  of  the  Church 
is  like  the  numerous  “streams  from  Lebanon,”  which  fill 
its  plains  and  dells  with  cheerful  life.  Solomon’s  Song 
4  :  15.  It  is  like  “the  glory  of  Lebanon.”  Isaiah  35  :  2. 
Rich  as  it  was  in  flocks,  fir  trees,  and  cedars,  its  slain 
beasts  and  wood  were  insufficient  to  bring  the  Lord  a 
worthy  burnt-ofiering.  Isaiah  40  :  16.  Its  fruitful  slopes 
abounded  with  flourishing  vineyards,  whose  grapes  pro¬ 
duced  wines  of  richest  flavor.  Hosea  14  :  7.  But  the 
glory  and  pride  of  Lebanon  were  her  forests  of  rare 
cedars,  which  were  transported  hundreds  of  miles. 
Doubtless  many  thousand  acres  were  covered  with  them. 
Now  there  are  but  few  places  where  any  remain,  and 
these  are  fast  disappearing.  Vandal  travellers  mutilate 
them  in  their  zealous  relic  worship,  and  the  native  moun¬ 
tain  tribes  cut  them  down  for  fuel.  Unless  something  is 
done  to  protect  them,  their  days  are  numbered.  Thus  it 
may  not  be  long  till  “  Lebanon  shall  fall  by  a  mighty 
one;”  when  it  shall  be  “ashamed  and  hewn  down.” 
Isaiah  10  •  34;  33  :  9. 


C(ELE-SYRIA. 


501 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


Ciele-Ssria  —  Crnssing  tjie  f thnon  —  foiixml  — 

€itm  0f  i\)t  Sra-t0Hst. 


Coele-Syria  is  a  valley  of  about  eight  or  nine  miles  in 
width.  It  is  formed  by  the  lofty  ranges  of  the  Lebanon 
and  Anti-Lebanon,  and  looks  like  an  expanded  mountain 
cleft.  The  plain  is  from  three  to  four  thousand  feet  above 
the  sea,  and  the  mountains  rise  almost  as  many  feet  above 
its  own  level.  It  is  therefore  appropriately  called  “  Hol- 
low^-Syria,”  as  its  name  signifies  —  an  Eden-like  dale 
hollowed  out  of  the  top  of  Lebanon.  Nearly  a  whole 
day  we  rode  over  its  beautiful  meadow-like  fields  after 
leaving  Baalbec.  Although  a  severe  winter  had  thinned 
the  crops,  doubtless  a  common  visitation  in  this  high  lati¬ 
tude,  the  w'heat,  lentils,  and  other  products,  looked  pro¬ 
mising.  In  Samaria  the  wheat  was  whitening  for  the 
harvest  two  weeks  before,  and  here  it  was  just  shooting 
into  heads.  Luxuriant  vineyards,  with  sturdy  vines  almost 
like  those  in  the  vale  of  Eshcol,  abounded  along  the 
sloping  base  of  the  Lebanon.  Numerous  streams,  some 
swollen  by  the  melting  of  the  mountain  snows,  rushed 
down  its  ravines,  which  w’ere  skillfully  husbanded  and 
spread  to  water  the  plain.  The  Orontes,  the  principal 
river  of  the  valley,  is  likewise  used  to  irrigate  the  lands. 
A  few  small  lakes  dot  the  plain  and  add  to  its  picturesque 
scenery. 


502 


CCELE-SYRIAN  VILLAGES. 


All  the  villages  showed  marks  of  industry  and  thrift — 
thrift  in  an  Eastern  sense.  They  seemed  to  farm  their 
lands  in  common.  At  some  places  a  hundred  ploughmen 
were  employed  on  twenty  or  thirty  acres  of  land.  The 
women  too  seemed  all  busily  engaged  in  doing  something, 
though  not  always  the  most  suitable  work.  Not  a  few 
were  employed  in  molding  manure  into  large  flat  cakes, 
which  they  spread  on  the  house-tops  to  dry  for  fuel. 
Even  where  the  t^^ood  is  not  scarce  they  seem  to  prefer 
this  dry  dung  to  cook  with,  perhaps  on  account  of  their 
dislike  to  chopping  wood,  or  because  it  kindles  and  burns 
more  easily.  The  valley  w^as  one  continuous  garden, 
teeming  with  a  profusion  of  wild  flowers.  In  many  places 
the  “lilies  of  the  field,”  though  somewhat  sickly  and 
shrivelled,  morning-glories,  and  dandelions,  greeted  us. 
The  animated  and  busy  scenes  w^hich  everywhere  met  us 
formed  a  most  cheering  contrast  to  the  white  dreary 
mountain  tops,  still  buried  beneath  wintry  snow. 

We  dismounted  in  a  grove  of  silvery  poplars  on  the 
edge  of  a  village,  to  lunch  and  rest  for  a  short  season. 
The  houses  had  a  neat  and  tasty  appearance,  the  fronts 
of  some  being  whitewashed.  Cheerful,  chubby  boys 
saluted  us  with  “  bonjourno”  and  “  bona  sera,”  (good  day 
and  good  evening)  which  reminded  us  that  we  were  among 
a  people  that  had  some  intercourse  or  relationship  with 
Italy.  Quite  a  brisk  stream  turned  a  small  grist-mill  at 
the  end  of  the  village.  Great  numbers  of  thriving  mul¬ 
berry  trees  grew  around  the  town.  It  was  a  remarkable 
village  for  Syria  —  so  tidy,  fresh,  and  busy. 

After  ascending  the  Lebanon  about  an  hour,  we  reached 
a  khan,  before  which  we  concluded  to  encamp.  The  lovely 
valley,  with  its  variegated  colors,  woodland,  wheatland, 
meadows  and  ploughed  fields,  verdure  and  villages,  and 


LIFE  IN  TABERNACLES. 


503 


streams  threading  their  crooked  courses  in  all  directions, 
all  spread  out  to  view  like  a  panorama.  The  hospitable 
proprietor  soon  welcomed  us  with  coiFee  and  the  pipe. 
‘‘  Tired  nature”  demanded  rest,  and  so  the  pipe  was  only 
honored  with  a  few  whiffs.  After  a  while  the  chattering 
of  a  few  swallows  awoke  me — sounds  so  familiar  that  my 
w^aking  thoughts  were  of  home  ;  swallows  just  like  ours 
too,  their  hills  and  throats  making  an  infinite  ado.  “Like 
a  crane  or  a  swallow,  so  did  I  chatter,”  said  the  grateful 
Hezekiah.  Isaiah  38 14.  Here,  as  in  our  country,  the 
swallow  observes  the  time  of  its  coming  and  going,  with¬ 
out  being  told.  Jeremiah  8  :  7. 

This  last  night  on  Lebanon  was  also  the  last  of  our 
tent-life.  Beautiful  and  hallowing  are  the  lessons  one 
learns  by  living  in  tabernacles.  This  wandering  life, 
having  literally  no  “  abiding  city,”  your  only  home  being 
the  spot  where  you  lay  your  weary  limbs  for  a  few  fleet¬ 
ing  hours  “between  evening  and  morning,”  impresses 
you  most  seriously  with  the  transitoriness  and  evanescence 
of  earthly  joys.  At  every  sunrise  the  earthly  house  of 
your  tabernacle  is  dissolved,  at  every  sunset  you  fasten 
the  stakes  and  stretch  the  cords  for  a  brief  repose ;  but 
always  nearing  the  end  of  your  journey.  As  Mont¬ 
gomery  has  it : 

“  While  in  the  body  pent 

Absent  from  thee  I  roam, 

And  nightly  pitch  my  roving  tent 
A  day’s  march  nearer  home.” 

That  evening,  the  last  before  we  reached  Beirout,  the 
same  hymns  we  sang  at  the  Red  Sea,  and  in  our  most 
trying  days  in  the  desert,  employed  our  tongues. 

“Guide  me,  0  thou  great  Jehovah.” 

“Come  thou  fount  of  every  blessing.” 

“  Upward  I  lift  mine  eyes,” 


504 


A  RETROSPECT. 


sounded  sweeter,  even  that  night  in  our  tent,  than 
when  we  used  to  sing  them  in  Arabia,  longing  for  the 
Promised  Land.  More  than  two  months  before  we  had 
started  from  Egypt ;  for  a  while  I  feared  that  I  would 
have  to  bury  my  only  companion  in  the  wilderness ;  at 
other  times  in  imminent  peril,  yet  the  Lord  had  delivered 
us  from  them  all.  In  Arabia  our  tent-life  had  its  perils 
as  well  as  its  pleasures ;  in  Palestine  it  was  less  danger¬ 
ous,  and  abounded  more  in  vaidety  and  incident.  From 
Damascus,  the  most  eastern  point  of  our  journey,  my 
heart  heat  lightly,  for  there  we  tacked  about  westward. 
And  now  the  last  night  in  this  roving  tent !  To-morrow, 
God  willing,  we  shall  lodge  in  a  comfortable  hotel  by  the 
sea-side  in  Beirout,  and  in  a  few  days  the  steamer  will  come 
that  is  to  take  us  to  the  sunny  shores  of  France.  Such 
a  prospect,  just  then  and  there,  was  sufficient  to  send  a 
thrill  of  enthusiasm  through  4he  heart  of  the  humblest 
pilgrim. 

At  half-past  six  the  next  morning,  our  saddled  horses 
already  impatiently  champed  their  bits  to  hasten  our 
start.  Steep  as  was  the  path  in  places,  it  was  an  easy 
ascent.  All  was  jubilant  with  life.  Every  glen  and 
ravine  seemed  to  send  a  dashing  rill  down  toward  the 
valley.  Numerous  sky-larks  started  along  our  winding 
mountain  path,^  pouring  forth  their  morning  song,  and 
flapping  upward,  singing  still  when  no  longer  seen,  until 
the  sweet  sounds  died  faintly  away  in  the  distant  heavens. 
At  8  A.  M.,  we  reached  a  summit,  from  which  we  got 
the  first  glimpse  of  Beirout,  far  down  by  the  sea-side,  em¬ 
bowered  among  trees,  some  twenty-five  miles  off.  The  Me¬ 
diterranean  looked  so  blue,  that  its  color  imperceptibly 
blended  with  the  horizon,  so  as  to  make  it  impossible  to 
tell  where  the  sea  ended  and  the  sky  began.  The  white 


A  DESCRIPTION  BY  THE  PSALMIST.  50^ 


sails  on  the  distant  blue  seemed  to  float  skj-ward.  Then 
thick  vapor-clouds  rolled  up  the  mountain  from  the  sea 
and  hid  all,  and  soon  wrapped  their  dark  dripping  folds 
around  us  like  a  wet  sheet.  These  condense  and  run  in 
rapid  streams  down  into  the  valley.  After  emerging  out 
of  them,  green  fields  and  villages  without  number  came 
in  sight.  No  penman  or  poet  could  half  so  well  describe 
all  the  beautiful  details  seen  on  and  from  this  mountain, 
as  the  Psalmist. 

“The  waters  stood  above  the  mountains. 

At  thy  rebuke  they  fled ; 

At  the  voice  of  thy  thunder  they  hasted  away. 

They  go  up  by  the  mountains ; 

They  go  down  by  the  valleys 

Unto  the  place  which  thou  hast  founded  for  them. 

Thou  hast  set  a  bound  that  they  may  not  pass  over, 

That  they  turn  not  again  to  cover  the  earth. 

He  sendeth  the  springs  into  the  valleys, 

Which  run  among  the  hills. 

They  give  drink  to  every  beast  of  the  field: 

The  wild  asses  quench  their  thirst. 

By  them  shall  the  fowls  of  the  heaven  have  their  babitation. 
Which  sing  among  the  branches. 

The  trees  of  the  Lord  are  full  of  sap ; 

The  cedars  of  Lebanon  which  he  hath  planted: 

Where  the  birds  make  their  nests: 

As  for  the  stork,  the  fir-trees  are  her  house. 

The  high  hills  are  a  refuge  for  the  wild  goats, 

And  the  rocks  for  the  conies. 

So  is  this  great  and  wide  sea. 

Wherein  are  things  creeping  innumerable, 

Both  small  and  great  beasts. 

There  go  the  ships  ; 

There  is  that  leviathan. 

Whom  thou  hast  made  to  play  therein.” 


48 


Psalm  104. 


506  EOADS  ACROSS  THE  LEBANON. 

The  path  on  the  west  side  of  Lebanon  is  almost  im- 
I  passable.  Although  the  great  thoroughfare  between 

I  Beirout  and  Damascus,  it  looks  as  if  wear  and  the  weather 

i 

!  had  had  all  their  own  way  for  centuries.  Certainly  none 

j  but  Arab  horses  could  carry  a  man  over  such  break-neck 

roads  without  the  risk  of  limb  and  life.  At  some  places 
‘  the  earth  was  all  washed  from  the  ledges  of  rocks,  leaving 

steps  two  and  three  feet  high,  and  these  our  poor  animals 
had  to  span  descending  a  steep  mountain.  Then  the 
path  led  through  ravines,  whose  beds  were  covered  with 
round  stones  which  rolled  from  under  the  horses’  tread 
;  like  cannon  balls.  '  We  sometimes  walked,  but  this  was 

\  not  an  easy  task  either.  Caravans  going  to  Damascus, 

i!  rnet  us  in  deep  narrow  gullies,  not  wide  enough  for  their 

i  pack-horses  to  pass,  which  threw  them  into  confusion, 

I  and  brought  upon  us  not  the  most  amiable  epithets. 

!  Over  such  roads  our  poor  animals  labored  with  their 

■!  burdens  down  the  Lebanon  for  a  half  a  day ;  now  de¬ 

scending  into  a  ravine,  then  clambering  out  of  it,  always 
;  hoping  to  be  nearing  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  and  still 

meeting  new  hills  and  ravines  to  cross.  At  noon  we 
'  spread  our  rug  in  a  khan  by  the  wayside,  in  which  we 

souorht  shelter  from  a  shower.  On  a  raised  hearth  in  the 
wall  a  fire  was  burning,  whose  smoke  tried  to  work  itself 
through  a  small  hole  near  it,  and  out  of  doors,  as  best  it 
■  could  without  a  chimney ;  the  greater  part  however  was 

!  retained  for  our  benefit.  The  wood-work  of  the  low  ceil- 

.  V 

:  ing  (the  roof  was  made  of  brushwood  and  plastered),  was 

'  j  charred  like  a  smoke-house.  After  sipping  at  a  cup  of 

the  keeper’s  cloudy  coffee,  we  mounted  our  horses  for  the 
i  last  time.  At  length  the  top  of  the  last  hill  at  Lebanon’s 

j,|  base  is  reached.  For  an  hour  we  rode  through  continu- 

'  I  ous  orchards  of  mulberry,  pomegranates,  with  beautiful 

( 

i 

'\ 

i ' 

i 


.4 


E  E  I  R  0  U  T. 


50*i 

pink  blossoms,  and  prickly  pear  like  mammoth  cactus 
plants,  pendent  with  gay  cup-shaped  flowers.  Olive 
groves,  pine  forests,  orange  and  lemon  gardens,  figs, 
almonds  and  apricots,  spread  over  the  plain  in  profuse 
variety.  There  is  an  Arabian  proverb  :  “  Lebanon  wears 
winter  on  its  head,  spring  upon  its  shoulders,  autumn  in 
its  bosom,  and  summer  sleeps  at  its  feet.”  Passing  from 
the  cold  bleak  summit  to  this  garden-spot,  teeming  with 
tropical  luxuriance,  we  found  it  to  be  literally  true.  Near 
the  edge  of  the  city  we  met  two  girls,  dressed  in  light 
pink  frocks  and  long  white  veils,  coming  out  to  the  spring 
with  their  water-pots.  Trees  and  all  manner  of  flowers 
filled  the  air  with  sweetest  fragrance,  which  the  gentle 
sea-breeze  wafted  toward  the  mountain.  We  took  up 
our  quarters  in  the  Hotel  Bellevue,  on  the  sea  coast,  about 
ten  minutes  below  Beirout.  Fatigue  and  exhaustion  had 
banished  hunger ;  this  last  was  one  of  the  hardest  days  on 
our  whole  journey. 

A  hotel  may  have  less  poetry  than  a  tent,  but  it  cer¬ 
tainly  possesses  greater  comforts.  Here  we  rested  four 
days,  inhaling  the  exhilarating  sea-breeze,  watching  the 
breakers  dashing  on  the  rough  beach,  and  laving  the 
cells  and  caves  which  perforate  the  rocky  coast.  Swallows 
twittered  around  our  tables  and  over  our  chamber  win- 
.dows.  And  these  green  leafy  orchards,  which  embrace 
Beirout  with  its  white  houses,  in  the  arms  of  life,  afforded 
a  charming  view  from  the  verandah  of  our  hotel.  And 
the  grand  amphitheatre  which  the  Lebanon  forms  around 
the  city,  with  villages  and  green  fields  smiling  down_^  from 
every  bluff  and  hill-top,  presents  one  of  the  most  pictu¬ 
resque  mountain  scenes  which  the  eye  of  man  can  be- 
liold.  Orchards,  vineyards,  villages  and  their  surround¬ 
ing  cultivated  plots,  are  strewn  from  the  base  to  the  top, 


508 


BEIROUT. 


rising  and  receding  dimly  in  the  cloudy  distant  height. 
This  western  side  of  Lebanon  is  as  well  cultivated  as  the 
mountains  of  Switzerland.  Every  accessible  spot,  how¬ 
ever  small,  that  can  be  cleared  of  its  stones,  must  bear 
its  few  stalks  of  wheat  or  grass.  Down  in  the  large 
valleys  of  Galilee  and  Samaria,  teeming  with  spontaneous 
fertility,  the  lazy  Arabs  are  half  starved  with  thousands 
of  untilled  acres  around  them.  Here  where  rocks  and 
a  meagre  soil  prevail,  in  places  which  plough  and  beast 
can  scarcely  reach,  you  discover  universal  marks  of 
industry  and  comfort,  and  see  these  hardy  mountaineers, 

“  Their  stormy  mansions  tread, 

And  force  a  churlish  soil  for  scanty  bread.^^ 

Beirout  is  most  probably  the  Berotbai  from  which 
David  took  much  brass  after  he  had  conquered  these 
northern  cities.  2  Sam.  8  :  8.  The  Berothah  mentioned 
in  Ezekiel  47  :  16,  may  refer  to  the  same  city.  Its  loca¬ 
tion  would  naturally  make  it  a  prominent  sea-port  of  the 
Phoenicians.  During  the  prosperous  period  of  that  an¬ 
cient  people,  this  charming  plain  must  have  been  even 
more  densely  settled  and  better  improved  than  now. 
Where  good  harbors  are  so  scarce  as  along  this  Phoeni¬ 
cian  coast,  they  would  not  be  likely  to  leave  such  a  point 
unimproved.  The  city  has  no  connection  with  Gospel 
history. 

Beirout  has  been  made  the  centre  of  the  Syrian  Mis¬ 
sionary  operations.  Here  and  at  Damascus,  and  at  in¬ 
termediate  villages,  American  missionaries  have  labored 
with' signal  success.  On  the  Sabbath  we  spent  in  Beirout, 
Dr.  Thomson,  author  of  The  Land  and  the  Book,  preached 
an  interesting  sermon  on  Exodus  17  :  15-16,  in  which  he 
reviewed  the  twenty-five  years  of  his  labor  in  this  city. 


i 


THE  MARONITES. 


509 


A.  (Quarter  of  a  century  ago,  he  said,  on  a  blustery 
February  morning,  the  ship  that  bore  me  to  Beirout 
landed  on  yonder  shore.  Then  Beirout  had  but  six  or 
eight  thousand  inhabitants;  now  it  has  50,000.  Then 
there  were  no  Protestant  Christians  here,  and  I  had  to 
begin  my  labors  in  a  small  room  in  the  same  building  in 
which  we  now  worship.  Then  there  was  not  a  Protestant 
congregation  in  the  Turkish  Empire,  and  for  a  Moham¬ 
medan  to  become  a  Protestant  was  an  offence  punishable 
by  death.  Now  there  are  many  flourishing  Protestant 
congregations  in  Syria  and  Palestine,  and  their  members 
are  respected.  Then  there  were  few  schools,  and  none 
for  females.  Now  we  have  flourishing  schools,  and  female 
education  is  encouraged.  My  old  associates  and  co-la¬ 
borers  have  all  entered  into  their  rest.  Another  genera¬ 
tion  of  workmen  has  taken  the  place  of  the  departed, 
and  I  am  left  the  solitary  survivor  of  an  army  which  has 
passed  from  a  scene  of  militant  trial  into  one  of  endless 
triumph.” 

Beirout  became  the  protector  and  feeder  of  the  be¬ 
reaved  and  famishing  surviving  Christians  who  escaped 
in  the  late  war.  The  Maronites,  who  were  the  greatest 
sufferers,  are  supposed  to  have  descended  from  the  an¬ 
cient  Syrians.  They  speak  the  Arabic,  but  their  Litur¬ 
gical  worship  is  in  the  old  Syrian  language.  They  claim 
to  be  a  separate  nation,  and  boast  of  their  political  inde¬ 
pendence,  giving  nothing  to  the  Turkish  government  but 
their  annual  tribute.  They  are  governed  by  Sheikhs, 
selected  from  their  prominent  families,  who  constitute 
their  nobility.  They  have  a  separate  ecclesiastical  com¬ 
munity,  which  elects  its  own  head,  called  the  Patriarch 
of  Antioch,”  who  usually  resides  in  the  Cenobian  Con¬ 
vent  on  the  Lebanon.  In  1445,  they  placed  themselves 
43  * 


510 


THE  DRUSES. 


under  the  jurisdiction  of  the  Pope,  who  ratifies  the  elec¬ 
tion  of  their  Patriarch.  In  1584,  Gregory  XIII.  founded 
a  Maronite  College  in  Pome,  from  which  they  have  since 
received  the  most  of  their  priests.  They  have,  howevei, 
never  fully  coalesced  with  the  Papal  church.  The  Popes 
have  allowed  them,  as  well  as  their  other  Oriental 
branches,  to  retain  a  number  of  their  traditional  usages. 
Their  priests  are  permitted  to  marry,  and  they  receive 
the  Lord’s  Supper  in  both  kinds,  (bread  and  wine,  the 
same  as  Protestants).  They  have  no  disciplined  soldiery, 
and  although  nearly  twice  as  numerous  as  the  Druses, 
(about  200,000,)  they  were  not  equal  to  their  enemies  in 
battle. 

The  Druses  are  Arabs,  who  came  from  the  eastern  con¬ 
fines  of  Syria,  and  settled  in  Lebanon  and  Anti-Lebanon, 
within  the  last  900  years.  They  are  neither  Mohamme¬ 
dans  nor  Christians.  One  of  their  religious  books  calls 
Mohammed  a  Satan  and  a  bastard,”  and  declares  the 
Gospel  to  be  true.  *  It  is  said  that  their  founder  held  that 
the  Divine  Being  became  incarnate  in  a  visible  form.  But 
they  are  so  perfectly  isolated,  and  keep  their  religious 
tenets  and  practices  so  profoundly  secret,  that  very  little 
is  known  of  them.  For  this  reason,  Mohammedans  say 
they  have  no  religion.  They  number  a  population  of 
about  100,000,  who  chiefly  live  on  the  Lebanon. 

Mountains  inspire  their  inhabitants  with  a  love  of 
liberty,  and  the  bravery  to  achieve  it,  as  the  history  of 
Switzerland  and  Scotland  shows.  The  pure  mountain  air 
of  Lebanon  has  nursed  and  nurtured  them  into  natural 
warriors,  whose  prowess  the  Turks  greatly  dread.  They 
are  evermore  struggling  for  political  independence.  Their 
well-drilled  army  of  20,000  or  25,000  men,  is  under  the 
control  of  brave  and  skillful  officers,  chiefs  chosen  from 


AN  ARAB  HORSE. 


511 


tlieir  old  men  whose  experience  has  trained  and  inured 
them  to  the  art  and  hardships  of  war.  They  are  a  sober, 
active,  and  hard-working  people,  fierce,  and  proverbially 
proud,  resenting  the  slightest  insult  with  the  dagger. 
They  disdain  the  dull  monotonous  life  of  the  valleys. 

“An  iron  race  the  mountain  cliffs  maintain, 

Foes  to  the  gentler  genius  of  the  plain.’' 

On  a  journey  of  this  kind,  one  becomes  attached  to  all 
that  have  served  and  followed  him,  both  man  and  beast. 
Not  without  a  pang  of  regret  could  I  look  for  the  last 
time  upon  the  graceful  dapple-grey  which  had  carried  me 
from  Jerusalem  to  Beirout.  Many  a  mountain  we  climbed 
together,  and,  with  a  single  exception,  his  foot  never 
failed  him,  nor  his  speed  either,  when  he  was  left  to  have 
his  own  way.  Along  precipices  where  a  single  mis-step 
might  have  resulted  in  instant  death,  he  cautiously  tripped 
as  if  conscious  that  he  held  a  human  being  on  his  back. 
No  Bedouin  Barahbas  could  put  his  plundering  hand 
into  my  pocket,  or  his  steel  into  my  heart,  if  it  was  in 
the  power  of  his  metal  or  speed  to  prevent  it.'  Once  I 
was  greatly  horrified  at  the  farce  of  St.  Antonio’s  Church 
in  Borne,  where  a  tittering  priest  blessed  horses  and 
mules,  and  sprinkled  them  with  holy  water.  Despite  the 
memory  of  that  sacred  mockery,  I  cherish  such  a  kindly 
feeling  for  that  Arabian  horse,  that  if  a  prayer  of  my 
heart  could  secure  to  him  the  happiest  life  which  his  kind 
has  the  capacity  to  enjoy,  I  would  be  tempted  to  offer  it 
in  his  behalf. 

Mohammed  came  one  morning  to  give  us  his  parting 
salaam.  He  is  a  man  of  few  words,  slow  to  speak,  and 
quick  to  hear.  Whether  from  stoicism,  or  the  grace  of 
patience,  he  possesses  a  marvellous  power  of  endurance, 


512 


OUR  COOK. 


and  always  seems  to  act  from  a  stern  sense  of  duty.  Often 
I  pitied  him,  when,  after  a  tedious  day's  journey,  he  had 
to  perform  his  cooking  duties,  scour,  and  wash- dishes  till 
near  midnight.  When  the  Bedouins  were  crouched  around 
their  fires  smoking,  and  Ahmed  lying  in  his  tent,  and  we 
taking  a  siesta,  or  watching  the  stars,  and  talking  of 
home,  he  killed  the  chickens  or  a  lamb,  nursed  his  dishes, 
or  prepared  them  for  the  next  day.  He  thoroughly  un¬ 
derstood  his  profession.  It  was  often  a  marvel  to  me 
where  he  got  the  wherewith  to  prepare  all  the  excellent 
dishes  with  which  he  supplied  us.  As  soon  as  we  reached 
the  destination  of  our  day’s  journey,  he  would  quickly 
fan  the  charcoal  in  his  little  stove  into  a  flame,  and  very 
soon  came  Firage  with  cofiee  —  none  of  your  Turkish 
nondescript,  as  cloudy  as  the  politics  of  the  Sultan,  but 
clear,  settled,  richly-flavored  coffee,  such  as  an  American 
matron  could  scarcely  excel.  Then,  alas,  for  the  poor 
fowl  or  sheep  that  would  come  within  reach  of  his  knife. 
The  table  set,  he  would  send  in  course  after  course,  lamb, 
fowl,  gazelle,  ham  (which  as  a  Mohammedan  he  would 
only  touch  from  a  sense  of  professional  duty,  but  not 
taste) ;  together  with  puddings  and  pastries  of  the  rarest 
kind.  Commit  yourself  to  a  camel’s  back  for  ten  hours 
in  the  Arabian  desert,  and  my  word  for  it  you  will  be  in 
a  condition  to  appreciate  such  a  table.  One  of  the  best 
compliments  this  faithful  servant  received  from  me,  was 
my  physical  expansion.  When  we  reached  Beirout,  I 
weighed  one  hundred  and  ninety  pounds,  twenty-five 
more  than  I  had  ever  reached  before.  Ahmed  gave  him 
thirty-five  dollars  a  month  to  cook  for  us,  and  thirty  dol¬ 
lars  to  pay  his  expenses  home.  When  a  child,  his  parents 
had  one  of  his  eyes  destroyed  to  save  him  from  military 
service.  He  has  a  wife  and  three  children  in  Cairo.  He  is  a 


OUR  DRAGOMAN. 


513 


man  of  a  very  equable  temper,  having,  to  my  knowledge, 
laughed  only  twice  during  the  two  months  and  a  half 
since  we  left  Cairo.  As  a  mark  of  kindly  remembrance, 
each  of  us  gave  him  a  Napoleon  (nearly  four  dollars), 
besides  a  number  of  half-worn  garments.  His  pock¬ 
marked  face  twitched  with  emotion  as  he  laid  his  hand 
into  mine,  and  called  upon  Allah  to  carry  me  safely  over 
the  great  waters  to  my  home. 

Firage,  our  Nubian  waiter,  black  as  a  hat,  was  a  jolly, 
genuine  negro,  from  Ethiopia,  the  land  of  negroes,  twelve 
or  fourteen  years  of  age.  He  was  remarkably  ‘‘  clever,” 
as  some  of  our  English  friends  said,  who  were  so  well 
pleased  with  him  that  they  made  efforts  to  buy  or  beg 
him  from  Ahmed  and  take  him  to  England.  He  was 
always  inventing  something  for  our  comfort.  The  first 
herald  of  the  rising  sun  was  the  coal-black  head  of 
Firage,  thrust  through  the  opening  of  the  tent-door, 
showing  his  ivory  teeth,  and  bidding  us  “  Good  morning !  ” 
which  was  about  the  extent  of  his  acquirements  in  the 
English  language.  Ahmed  keeps  him,  has  a  concern  for 
his  good  training,  and  says  he  has  a  black  girl  which,  in 
a  few  years,  he  will  give  him  to  wife,  if  he  wants  her. 

The  man  on  whom  we  were  the  most  dependent  was 
our  dragoman,  Ahmed  Saide.  For  an  unlettered  man, 
he  is  remarkably  intelligent  and  eminently  shrewd.  He 
fulfilled  the  contract  w^e  had  made  with  him,  and  did 
well  by  it.  He  is  a  faithful  servant,  whom  I  can  recom¬ 
mend  to  any  of  my  countrymen  who  may  stand  in  need 
of  his  services. 

At  length  the  French  steamer  Samois  arrives,  which 
is  to  carry  us  back  to  France.  For  the  benefit  of  the 
curious,  I  would  state  that  our  fare  from  here  to  Mar¬ 
seilles  was  582  francs  —  a  little  over  $116.  A  French 

2h 


514 


A  FRENCH  STEAMER. 


steamer  on  the  Mediterranean  and  a  tent  on  the  plains 
of  Arabia  are  two  different  things.  Arrived  on  board, 
we  found  the  deck  peopled  with  three  or  four  hundred 
Mecca  pilgrims,  while  the  so-called  first-class  passengers 
were  stowed  away,  four  in  each  small  state-room  of  eight 
feet  square.  The  pilgrims  covered  the  deck  with  a 
scent  and  scene  more  picturesque  than  pleasant.  During 
the  day  they  could  stand  and  shift  about,  and  after  night 
they  sought  to  recline  by  wedging  themselves  in  spoon- 
fashion.  Meanwhile  the  ship  pitched  and  rolled  at  a 
fearful  rate,  riddling  the  sleepers  together,  like  wheat  in 
a  sieve :  the  solid  grain  sinking  beneath,  leaving  the 
lighter  chaff  on  the  top.  Many  were  the  complaints  and 
demurrings,  until  all  found  their  proper  level.  In  spite 
of  their  closely-packed  condition,  they  managed  to  find 
room  to  say  their  prayers.  At  their  meals,  a  group 
would  settle  in  a  narrow  circle  around  a  dish  of  rice ; 
and  some  munched  their  bread,  sitting  on  a  rug  or  lean¬ 
ing  against  a  mast. 

Our  steamer  sailed  at  8  P.  M.,  so  that  we  passed  off 
Tyre  and  Sidon  after  night.  Sidon  is  about  thirty  miles 
south  of  Beirout,  on  the  sea-coast,  and  Tyre,  some  twenty- 
five  miles  south  of  Sidon.  This  strip  of  land  along  the 
sea  was  ancient  Phoenicia  —  a  great  commercial  nation, 
by  whose  wealth  and  influence  these  two  cities  were  pro¬ 
duced.  Before  the  days  of  David  and  Solomon  they  were 
already  prosperous  and  mighty  cities,  whose  decline  com¬ 
menced  “before  antiquity  began.”  They  were  famous 
for  their  costly  and  rare  manufactures.  The  Tyrian 
purple  is  praised  by  the  most  ancient  writers.  The 
heroines  of  Homer  were  arrayed  in  robes 

“  Which  from  soft  Sidon  youthful  Paris  bore, 

With  Helen,  touching  on  the  Tyrian  shore.^^ 


TYRE  AND  SIDON. 


515 


One  says : 


“  I  too  from  glorious  Sidon  came, 
Famous  for  wealth  by  dyeing  earnhl/^ 


So  too  Homer  sings  of 


“Belts, 

That,  rich  with  Tyrian  dye,  refulgent  glowed/^ 


These  were  the  parent  cities  of  Carthage  and  Cadiz, 
the  queens  of  ancient  commerce  —  proverbial  for  their 
luxury  and  magnificence.  Tyre,  being  always  mentioned 
first  in  order,  must  have  been  the  most  powerful  of  the 
two,  but  perhaps  the  younger.  For  a  colony  from  Sidon 
IS  said  to  have  founded  Tyre  two  hundred  and  forty  years 
before  the  building  of  Solomon’s  temple.  In  the  division 
of  the  land  by  Joshua,  it  was  already  called  “the  strong 
city  of  Tyre.”  Joshua  19  :  29.  Hiram,  King  of  Tyre^ 
was  a  friend  of  David  and  Solomon,  and  sent  his  servants 
to  “hew  cedar-trees  out  of  Lebanon,”  and  fioat  them 
down  here  to  Joppa  (1  -Kings  5) ;  he  also  sent  his  ser¬ 
vants  with  Solomon’s  fleet  from  Ezion-Geber,  at  the  Gulf 
of  Akaba,  to  Ophir,  to  bring  gold  for  the  use  of  the 
King  of  Israel.  1  Kings  9  :  27.  So  great  was  her  com¬ 
mercial  influence  that  the  isles  of  the  sea  shook  at  the 
sound  of  her  fall.  Ezekiel  26  :  15. 

About  half-way  between  Tyre  and  Sidon,  on  this  Phoe¬ 
nician  coast,  is  the  modern  village  of  Surafend,  conse¬ 
crated  and  conspicuous  by  the  white  domes  rising  over 
the  graves  of  Mohammedan  saints.  This  is  the  Zare- 
phath,  where  Elijah  multiplied  the  widow’s  meal  and  the 
“  little  oil  in  the  cruse.”  1  Kings  17 ;  Luke  4  :  26. 
In  later  times,  one  greater  than  Elijah  showed  a  miracu¬ 
lous  kindness  to  another  woman  in  this  region.  The 
only  miracle  which  Christ  performed  on  Gentile  territory 


516 


DEPARTED  GLORY. 


was  in  the  curing  of  the  Sjrophoenician  woman’s  daugh¬ 
ter  on  the  ‘‘  borders  of  Tjre  and  Sidon.”  Mark  7 :  24—30. 
Coming  from  Greece  to  Jerusalem,  Paul  tarried  at  Tyre 
seven  days.  A  solemn  interview,  and  a  still  more  solemn 
parting,  occurred.  The  brethren  accompanied  him,  with 
their  “  wives  and  children,  till  they  were  out  of  the  city.” 
There  they  “kneeled  down  on  the  shore,  and  prayed.” 
Acts  21  :  4,  5.  After  that,  the  ship  that  took  him  to 
Italy,  as  a  prisoner,  touched  at  Sidon,  where  he  received 
“liberty  to  go  unto  his  friends  to  refresh  himself.”  Acts 
27  :  3.  The  celebrated  church-father  Origen  is  said  to 
lie  buried  at  Tyre ;  and  beneath  the  ruins  of  its  ancient 
cathedral  repose  the  bones  of  the  great  German  emperor, 
Frederick  Barbarossa. 

These  cities,  like  many  others,  have  become  the  melan¬ 
choly  monuments  of  the  inevitable  ruin  which  sin  entails, 
as  well  as  a  testimony  to  the  divine  inspiration  of  pro¬ 
phecy.  Tyre  has  shrunken  and  shrivelled  into  a  peasant 
village,  and  Sidon  retains  a  population  of  from  eight  to 
ten  thousand.  The  glory  and  power  of  their  ancient 
manufactures  and  commerce  have  departed ;  the  pride 
and  pomp  of  their  merchant  -princes  vanished,  and  the 
spectral  shadow  of  their  history  lingers  among  the  broken 
columns  and  crumbling  walls  that  strew  their  coast.  The 
harbors  in  which  the  sails  of  all  civilized  nations  fluttered 
3000  years  ago,  and  where  cargoes  of  gold  were  unloaded, 
are  dreary  and  deserted.  The  sounds  of  music  and  of 
mirth,  and  the  gaudy  festive  throngs  have  given  place  to 
owls  hooting  among  their  ruins,  and  eagles  perched  on 
lofty  rocks.  As  Gibbon  says  :  “  A  mournful  and  solitary 
silence  now  prevails  along  the  shore  which  once  resounded 
with  the  'world’s  debate.”  Tyre,  the  home  “  of  sea-faring 
men,”  has  not  a  ship  whose  keel  ploughs  the  sea.  Her 


C  E  S  A  R  E  A  . 


617 


towers”  are  broken  down,  and  her  shattered  walls  of 
dried  brick  have  mouldered  back  to  earth.  Her  few  in¬ 
habitants  scrape  together  a  meagre  subsistence  by  fishing, 
and  a  little  farming.  Her  rock-girt  coast,  for  she  stood 
on  an  island,  near  the  shore,  once  covered  with  the  proud 
palaces  of  her  princes,  is  now  a  place  for  the  spread¬ 
ing  of  nets  in  the  midst  of  the  sea,”  on  which  the  modern 
Syrians  dry  their  fishing-nets.  Ezekiel  26  :  5,  and  14. 
Thus  has  come  to  pass  what  the  prophet  foresaw  and 
foretold  when  Tyre  and  Sidon  were  still  the  pride  of  the 
sea,  2500  years  ago. 

On  the  following  morning  we  passed  in  sight  of  Mount 
Carmel,  and  some  thirty-five  or  forty  miles  north  of 
Joppa,  we  got  a  distant  glimpse  of  the  site  of  Cesarea, 
where  good  Cornelius  fasted,  prayed,  and  gave  alms. 
Here  Peter  preached  his  first  sermon  to  the  Gentiles,  and 
bade  the  first  non-Jewish  converts  “to  be  baptized.” 
Acts  10.  It  was  the  Roman  capital  of  Palestine,  the 
residence  of  Roman  procurators,  where  Vespasian  was 
declared  emperor.  Here  Eusebius,  the  ancient  church 
historian,  was  born,  and  Origen  wrote  many  of  his  com¬ 
mentaries  at  Cesarea.  After  his  conversion,  Paul  came 
to  Jerusalem  and  “  spake  boldly  in  the  name  of  the  Lord 
Jesus,”  which  provoked  a  persecution,  and  “  the  brethren 
brought  him  down  to  Oesarea^  and  sent  him  forth  to 
Tarsus.”  Acts  9  :  29,  30.  Here  lived  “Felix,  the  gov¬ 
ernor,”  to  whom  he  was  afterwards  brought  from  Jerusa¬ 
lem  for  trial;  where  he  preached  before  him  and  his  wife 
Drusilla,  reasoning  of  “righteousness,  temperance,  and 
judgment  to  come,”  with  such  pungency  and  fearless 
power  that  the  dissolute  and  tyrannical  governor  trem¬ 
bled  with  a  sense  and  terror  of  his  sins.  Acts  24  :  24,  25. 
After  being  imprisoned  two  years  at  Cesarea,  Porcius 
44 


518 


PAUL’S  PREACHING. 

Festus  came  into  Felix’s  room.  He  gave  Paul  a  hearing 
in  the  presence  of  Agrippa  and  Bernice,  before  whom  he 
preached  that  model  sermon,  pointed,  yet  courteous,  con¬ 
tained  in  the  26th  chapter  of  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles. 
Festus,  being  no  longer  able  to  restrain  himself,  cried  out 
with  a  loud  voice  :  “  Paul,  thou  art  beside  thyself ;  much 
learning  doth  make  thee  mad.”  The  bold  Apostle  replied  : 
‘‘King  Agrippa,  believest  thou  the  prophets?  I  know 
that  thou  believest.”  This  direct  appeal  to  the  prophets, 
after  showing  that  they  had  foretold  the  life,  death,  and 
resurrection  of  Christ,  was  more  than  Agrippa  could 
resist.  His  mind  was  convinced  but  his  heart  not  con¬ 
quered,  and  he  said  unto  Paul :  “Almost  thou  persuadest 
me  to  be  a  Christian.”  From  Cesarea  Paul  is  taken  in 
a  ship  as  a  prisoner  to  Borne.  Here,  too,  lived  Pontius 
Pilate,  from  where  he  came  up  to  attend  the  annual  festi¬ 
vals  at  Jerusalem ;  and  in  the  theatre  which  his  father 
built  in  Cesarea,  “  the  angel  of  the  Lord  smote  Herod” 
because  he  arrogated  divine  honor,  where  he  was  “  eaten 
of  worms  and  gave  up  the  ghost.”  Acts  12  :  22,  23. 
Here,  too,  lived  Philip,  the  evangelist,  whose  daughters 
“did  prophesy,”  and  in  whose  house  Paul  abode.  Acts 
21.  And  the  same  Philip,  after  he  had  instructed  and 
baptized  the  Ethiopian  eunuch  near  Gaza,  “  was  found  at 
Azotus,  and  passing  through,  he  preached  in  all  the  cities 
(along  the  coast  of  the  Mediterranean)  till  he  came  to 
Cesarea.'''  Acts  8. 

On  Pentecost  the  Holy  Ghost  was  first  poured  out 
upon  a  Jewish  assembly  through  the  preaching  of  Peter 
at  Jerusalem;  and  by  the  preaching  of  the  same  Peter 
He  was  first  poured  out  upon  the  Gentiles  at  Cesarea, 
Here  the  middle  wall  of  partition  was  first  broken  down, 
and  Jewish  prejudices  were  conquered  by  the  power  of 


JOPPA. 


519 


the  Gospel,  which  is  alike  free  and  adequate  to  save  the 
Jew  and  the  Gentile,  the  bond  and  the  free.  No  city  in 
Palestine  is  more  extensively  associated  with  primitive 
Christianity  than  Cesarea,  for  here  were  gathered  the 
first  fruits  of  the  Gospel  among  the  Gentiles ;  and  yet 
no  city  connected  with  that  interesting  period  is  so  en¬ 
tirely  deserted  and  in  ruins.  No  hamlet  or  hut  marks 
the  site  of  Pilate’s  home,  and  not  a  solitary  human  being 
lingers  among  the  broken  relics  of  its  departed  glory. 
As  in  the  Roman  Forum,  “  the  ground  is  strewn  with 
history;”  richly  carved  broken  columns  are  washed  by 
the  waves  along  the  shallow  beach,  and  the  streets,  once 
alive  with  a  gallant  soldiery  and  all  the  paraphernalia  of 
regal  pomp  and  power,  are  now  covered  with  the  undis- 
tinguishable  ruins  of  prostrate  temples,  palaces,  and 
theatres,  fragments  of  which  an  occasional  small  ship 
carries  off  to  Joppa  or  elsewhere  to  build  modern  dwell¬ 
ings.  No  city  along  the  whole  sea-coast  presents  such  a 
scene  of  absolute  desertion  and  desolation  as  the  home 
of  Pontius  Pilate  and  Herod  Agrippa — the  one  the  judge 
who  condemned  Jesus  Christ  to  be  crucified,  the  other 
the  first  king  who  officially  condemned  a  Christian 
(James)  to  martyrdom ;  for  Stephen  was  not  judicially 
condemned,  but  slain  by  a  Jewish  mob.  Acts  12  :  2. 

In  about  eighteen  hours  after  leaving  Beirout  we 
reached  the  harbor  of  Jaffa  (Joppa).  Our  arrival  threw 
the  crowded  deck  into  a  swarm.  Jews  and  Moslems 
scrambled  for  their  baggage,  over  bales,  boxes,  and 
bodies ;  shrivelled  old  women  stooping  over  the  port-hole 
at  the  imminent  peril  of  their  lives,  and  screamed  towards 
the  bottom  of  the  boat  for  their  goods.  It  was  a  tumult¬ 
uous  scene,  inferior  only  to  that  of  the  high  sea  in  the 
harbor,  which  would  not  allow  us  to  land.  A  few  small 


520 


JOPPA. 


boats  ventured  ashore  with  passengers,  which  gallopped 
over  the  tossing  waves,  sometimes  almost  standing  on-end, 

•  at  others  nearly  hid  between  the  waves.  Here  we  tarried 
half  a  day,  thinking  and  reading  of  Jonah,  Tabitha,  and 
Peter.  Along  the  sea-side”  are  still  a  number  of  tan¬ 
neries,  one  of  which  tradition  points  out  as  the  house  of 
Simon  the  tanner.  Acts  10  :  6.  Whether  it  be  the  identi¬ 
cal  house  I  will  not  say ;  but  it  must  have  been  here¬ 
abouts,  for  it  was  “by  the  sea-side.”  Tanneries  being  a 
species  of  nuisance  in  the  East,  are  not  often  allowed  to 
be  removed  into  new  localities.  They  are  permanent 
fixtures  in  oriental  cities,  from  which  it  is  naturally  and 
reasonably  inferred  that  Simon  the  tanner  must  have  had 
his  establishment  at  the  same  place.  “  Lydda  was  nigh 
to  Joppa,”  where  Peter  healed  Eneas  of  the  palsy.  He 
preached  the  Gospel  through  this  region  until  all  that 
dwelt  at  Lydda  and  Saron  turned  to  the  Lord.  Thither 
they  sent  for  Peter  when  the  beneficent  Dorcas  had  died 
at  Joppa,  whom  he  restored  to  life.  Acts  9. 

Joppa  is  one  of  the  oldest  cities  in  Palestine,  if  not  in 
the  world.  When  Joshua  divided  Canaan  among  the 
twelve  tribes,  he  gave  Jopha  (Joppa)  to  Dan.  Joshua 
19  :  46.  Erom  remotest  antiquity  it  was  the  principal 
sea-port  of  Canaan,  as  it  is  to  this  day.  Though  thirty 
miles  distant,  it  was  the  nearest  port  to  Jerusalem.  In 
building  the  temple,  Solomon  brought  wood  from  Lebanon 
to  this  harbor.  “We  will  bring  it  to  thee  in  floats  by 
sea  to  Joppa^  and  thou  shalt  carry  it  up  to  Jerusalem.” 
2  Chron.  2  : 16.  When  Ezra  rebuilt  the  temple,  he  again 
brought  “  cedar  trees  from  Lebanon  to  the  sea  (harbor) 
of  Joppa.''  Ezra  3:7.  It  now  is  the  only  sea-port,  of 
any  importance,  in  Palestine.  All  persons  going  to  Jeru¬ 
salem  by  sea,  land  here  ;  and  all  its  merchandise  is  brought 


i 


JOPPA. 


521 


through  this  port.  The  increase  of  traffic  and  travel  has 
given  it  a  new  impulse,  and  of  late  years  increased  its 
population  to  15,000,  a  number  equal  to  that  of  the  Holy 
City  itself. 

Joppa  is  built  cn  a  ledge  of  rocks  which  projects  into 
the  sea.  On  this  it  recedes  and  rises  from  the  coast, 
assuming  somewhat  the  shape  of  a  cone,  around  which 
large  gardens  of  orange,  citron,  and  pomegranate  trees 
spread.  No  oranges  are  so  luscious,  rich  in  flavor  and 
juicy,  as  these  at  Joppa.  From  our  steamer  in  the  harbor, 
its  snow-white  houses  and  green  groves  gave  it  the  ap¬ 
pearance  of  a  fairy  city,  where  the  air  is  redolent  with 
sweetest  odors,  and  the  eye  is  charmed  by  every  color 
and  element  of  natural  beauty.  These,  together  with  the 
large  yellow  fruit  pendent  from  every  limb,  half  hid  among 
the  dark  green  leaves,  reminded  me  more  than  any 
other  country  outside  of  Italy,  of  Goethe’s  couplet 

“  Kennst  du  das  Land,  wo  die  Citronem  bllih’n, 

Im  dunklen  Laub  die  Gold-orangen  gllih'n?^' 

The  harbor  of  Joppa  is  like  a  large  boiling  caldron, 
often  in  uproar  and  commotion  when  the  sea  is  calm.  It 
is  rarely  quiet  enough  for  vessels  to  land  their  passengers. 
The  ‘^mighty  tempest”  which  overtook  Jonah  here,  could 
make  terrible  havoc  with  a  sea  that  is  rough  enough  in 
its  calmest  moods.  While  our  ship  lay  at  anchor,  my 
imagination  could  see  this  fugitive  prophet  take  his  de¬ 
parture  from  here.  In  this  harbor  he  met  a  ship  going 
to  Tarshish,  perhaps  the  Tarsus  of  Paul.  “He  paid  the 
fare  and  went  down  into  it,”  just  as  people  do  now  who 
travel  on  the  sea.  But  why  go  to  sleep  in  a  storm  ? 
Perfectly  natural,  which  every  poor  tempest-tossed,  sea¬ 
sick  body  will  do.  A  rough  sea  and  a  rocking  ship  stir 
44* 


622 


UNCOMFORTABLE  VOYAGING. 


up  the  bile,  and  produce  drowsiness.  I  have  seen  a  score 
of  persons  asleep  on  their  seats  and  standing,  an  hour  or 
two  after  the  boat  started,  and  often  in  the  most  violent 
storms. 

'  The  insensibility  which  sleep  affords,  is  a  merciful  pro¬ 
vision  to  all  afflicted  seafarers.  If  ever  there  was  a 
being  besides  Sancho  Panza  who  had  reason  to  bless  the 
inventor  of  sleep,  the  destroyer  of  panic  and  sorrow,  it 
is  the  poor  mortal  who  is  rocked  into  this  wave-ridden 
plight.  And  no  sea  has  ever  treated  me  as  did  this  Me¬ 
diterranean.  Its  calms  are  storms,  and  its  bumping  waves 
give  the  ship  an  abrupt  and  rapid  rocking  motion,  which 
the  strongest  and  best  acclimated  seamen  must  often  suc¬ 
cumb  to.  Those  eleven  days  from  Beirout  to  Marseilles, 
exceed  everything  in  the  whole  range  of  my  sea  voyages. 
The  debarking  of  our  Moslem  pilgrims  at  Alexandria,  gave 
us  more  deck  room,  enough  to  perform  all  the  sullen,  ill- 
humored  antics  which  the  sea  inspired.  Strange  deck 
scenes  we  had  during  that  squally  voyage.  We  roasted 
and  groaned  through  long  disgustful  days  in  unconscious¬ 
ness,  —  a  torpid,  pouting,  half-waking,  half-dreaming 
state,  filled  with  visions  of  the  goodlier  things  of  life  on 
land,  for  whose  enjoyment  this  pining  ordeal  was  an  effi¬ 
cient  preparation. 

A  ship  or  steamer  in  a  storm  is  a  grand  sight.  Taking 
your  stand  on  the  stern  of  a  floating  castle  three  hundred 
feet  long,  you  are  amazed  at  her  defiant  progress.  Now 
rising  on  one  end  as  she  labors  her  way  up  a  wave,  then 
suddenly  dropping  on  the  other  end  in  sliding  down  on 
the  other  side ;  terrific  masses  of  water  dash  over  her 
deck ;  far  up  on  the  sail-yards  the  sailors  hang  high  in 
the  howling  tempest,  singing  their  merry  songs  while  they 
are  taking  in  sails,  and  adjusting  the  ropes.  The  storm 


STORM  AT  SEA. 


52a 


howls  and  rages  in  vain,  for  a  man  at  the  small  wheel  works 
the  rudder  which  controls  the  mighty  machinery,  men, 
masts,  and  engine,  and  the  ship  sports  triumphantly  with 
wind  and  wave.  Like  the  rudder  of  a  ship,  which  turns 
and  steers  it  through  “  fierce  winds,”  so  the  tongue  is 
a  little  member,  and  boasteth  great  things.”  James  3  :  4,  5. 
Few  persons  possess  the  capacity  to  enjoy  a  storm  at  sea. 
The  Psalmist  must  certainly  have  seen  ships  in  a  storm, 
and  possibly  even  felt  their  motion,  for  he  describes  the 
scene  in  detail,  even  to  the  sea-sick  passengers. 

“  They  that  go  down  to  the  sea  in  ships, 

That  do  business  in  great  waters ; 

These  see  the  works  of  the  Lord, 

And  his  wonders  in  the  deep. 

For  he  commandeth  and  raiseth  the  stormy  wind, 

Which  lifteth  up  the  waves  thereof. 

They  (the  ships)  mount  up  to  the  heaven. 

They  go  down  again  to  the  depths ; 

Their  soul  is  melted  because  of  trouble. 

They  reel  to  and  fro. 

And  stagger  like  a  drunken  man. 

And  are  at  their  wits^  end. 

Then  they  cry  unto  the  Lord  in  their  trouble, 

And  he  bringeth  them  out  of  their  distresses. 

He  maketh  the  storm  a  calm. 

So  that  the  waves  thereof  are  still. 

Then  are  they  glad  because  they  be  quiet; 

So  he  bringeth  them  unto  their  desired  haven.^^ 

Psalm  107  :  23-30, 


524 


THE  OKEEE  CHAPEL. 


CHAPTER  XXlIl, 


ttmBtoarh  ImanJi. 


“Immer,  immer  nach  Westen, 

Dort  muss  die  Kuste  sich  zeigen. 

Traue  dem  leitenden  Gott.” 

Schiller. 

The  Greek  chapel  in  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre 
at  Jerusalem,  contains  a  depression  in  the  floor,  a  little 
hole  in  the  pavement,  which,  these  Christians  say, 
marks  the  geographical  centre  of  the  earth.  Possibly 
they  were  led  to  assume  such  a  claim  for  their  place  of 
worship,  from  its  nearness  to  Calvary  and  the  Saviour’s 
Sepulchre.  Although  their  geography  may  be  at  fault, 
this  spot  has  a  marked  typical  meaning.  For  so  far  as 
the  facts  and  forces  of  Christianity  can  be  historically 
localized,  Jerusalem  is  both  the  starting  point  and  centre 
of  Christ’s  Kingdom  on  earth.  It  was  here,  where  the 
temple  altar  flowed  with  typical  blood  for  centuries,  and 
sent  up  clouds  of  propitiatory  incense  to  the  God  of 
Israel,  that  He  crowned  His  sufferings  and  completed  His 
atoning  sacrifice.  And  among  the  last  words  which  He 
spoke  to  his  apostles  after  His  resurrection  were  these ; 
“  That  repentance  and  remission  of  sins  should  be  preached 
in  his  name  among  all  nations,  beginning  at  Jerusalem,'* 
Luke  24  :  47. 


\ 


COURSE  OF  CHRISTIANITY. 


625 


I  have  elsewhere  spoken  of  the  geographical  adapta¬ 
tion  of  Palestine  to  be  the  nursery  and  central  theatre  of 
the  earthly  history  of  the  Church  of  Christ,  before  and 
since  His  incarnation.  The  direction  in  which  Christi¬ 
anity  has  mainly  spread  since  the  birth  of  Christ,  fur¬ 
nishes  an  impressive  illustration  on  this  point.  Our 
Saviour  sent  His  apostles  “  into  all  the  world  ”  to  proclaim 
His  Gospel.  Some  went  to  Egypt,  and  others  into 
Arabia.  Down  into  the  depths  of  the  Asiatic  and  African 
continents  the  early  heralds  of  the  cross  bore  the  tidings 
of  salvation.  For  a  while  flourishing  congregations  were 
established  and  maintained  in  some  parts  of  the  East,  of 
which  all  but  their  petrified  and  ossified  relics  have  long 
since  disappeared.  At  the  same  time  Paul  and  Peter 
preached  the  Gospel  and  established  churches  westward, 
and  these  have  propagated  the  leaven  of  Christianity 
still  onward.  In  this  direction  the  moulding  stream  of 
vital  Church  life  has  mainly  flowed,  and  continues  to  flow. 

To  evade  the  murderous  designs  of  Herod,  Joseph  and 
Mary  fled  to  Egypt  with  the  infant  Jesus.  Geographi¬ 
cally  it  was  a  step  backward  in  the  course  of  Christian 
events.  But  it  must  needs  be  that  the  Messiah  should 
in  a  certain  sense  commence  His  atoning  career  in  the 
country  whence,  as  the  shekinah,  He  led  His  ancient  peo¬ 
ple  out  of  the  house  of  bondage.  Thus  Tie  hallowed  the 
Morning  Land^  where  Science,  Art,  and  Civilization  first 
dawned — where  Homer,  Plato,  Xenophon,  and  even 
Moses,  sat  at  the  feet  of  Egypt’s  wisdom ;  showing  that 
He  came  not  to  destroy  science,  but  to  sanctify  and  per¬ 
fect  it.  But  He  could  not  remain  or  go  further  South  and 
East.  Thus  when  Israel  was  an  infant  nation,  and  when 
the  Messiah  was  an  infant  Redeemer,  they  were  both 
called  out  of  Egypt.  “  When  Israel  was  a  child,  then  I 


526 


Peter’s  vision. 


loved  him,  and  called  my  son  out  of  Egypt.’*  Hosea 
11  :  1.  Out  of  Egypt  have  I  called  my  son.”  Matt. 
2  :  15. 

The  progress  of  Science,  Civilization,  and  Keligion, 
has  always  followed  the  course  of  the  sun  —  Westward. 
Erom  the  East  the  star  brought  the  Wise  men  in  search 
of  the  new-born  King  at  Bethlehem.  During  our  Saviour’s 
life  and  ministry  His  immediate  mission  was  confined  to 
Palestine — the  ancient  Land  of  Promise.  His  labors 
were  specially  directed  to  the  lost  sheep  of  the  House  of 
Israel.  The  instructions  which  He  gave  to  His  chosen 
apostles  in  sending  them  out  were  to  the  same  effect. 
Matt.  10  :  5-6.  This  led  Peter  and  some  of  the  rest  to 
adopt  Judaizing  views.  They  lost  sight  of  the  Saviour’s 
prophetic  remarks  to  the  woman  of  Samaria,  that  the 
period  was  at  hand  when  “  neither  in  this  mountain 
[Gerizim,  where  the  Samaritans  had  their  altar]  nor  yet 
at  Jerusalem  they  should  worship,”  but  from  that  time 
on  “  the  true  worshippers  should  worship  the  father  in 
spirit  and  in  truth.”  John  4  :  21-23.  Peter  thought 
that  all  would  have  to  become  Jews,  be  circumcised,  be¬ 
fore  they  could  be  received  as  Christians.  To  convince 
him  that  the  Gentiles  were  also  fit  subjects  for  the  re¬ 
demption  of  Christianity,  God  gave  him  a  vision.  One 
day  at  noon,  he  went  on  a  quiet  retired  house-top  to 
pray.  Being  at  meal  time  he  became  hungry,  and  be¬ 
fore  he  received  anything  to  eat  fell  into  a  trance.  He 
saw  a  vessel  descending  from  heaven,  containing  all 
manner  of  beasts,  among  others  such  as  the  Jewish  Law 
pronounced  unclean.  A  voice  told  him  to  slay  and  eat, 
but'with  his  Jewish  notions  he  refused  to  comply.  The 
voice  told  him  not  to  call  that  unclean  which  God  had 
cleansed.  While  thinking  over  the  strange  vision  three 


PROGRESS  OF  CHRISTIANITY. 


527 


men,  wbo  had  been  sent  hither  from  Cesarea  by  Cornelius, 
“stood  before  the  gate  and  called,  and  asked  whether 
Simon,  which  was  surnamed  Peter,  were  lodged  there.” 
(You  still  see  persons  calling  with  a  loud  voice  at  the 
doors  of  houses,  inquiring  after  persons  within).  The 
apostle  went  with  the  messengers  and  on  the  second  day 
they  reached  Cesarea,  thirty-five  miles  from  Joppa. 
Here  the  whole  vision  interpreted  itself  to  Peter,  and  he 
preached  his  first  sermon  to  a  Gentile  congregation  in 
the  house  of  Cornelius,  composed  of  “  his  kinsmen  and 
near  friends.”  Acts  10. 

This  vision  of  Peter  at  Joppa,  showing  him  that  “  the 
field  is  the  world,”  is  very  significant.  It  could  not  have 
happened  with  the  same  propriety  anywhere  else.  Here, 
at  the  ancient  and  modern  sea-port  of  Palestine  —  the 
extreme  outpost  of  the  Land  of  Promise,  where  Europe 
and  Asia  meet — the  landing-point  of  the  pilgrims  coming 
to  Jerusalem  from  the  West;  the  leaying-point  for  those 
who  go  away  westward ;  here,  on  a  house-top  by  the  sea¬ 
side,  Peter  looked  up  at  the  descending  vision  —  looked, 
perhaps,  wdth  his  face  toward  the  setting  sun  —  and 
read  his  first  intelligible  lesson  in  Catholic  Christianity. 

Now'  the  Gospel  spread  westward,  to  Asia  Minor, 
Greece,  and  Europe.  Paul,  in  chains,  carried  it  to 
Malta,  and  thence  to  Pome.  It  spread  north  and  west, 
in  spite  of  the  influx  of  the  Barbarians.  Along  the  Rhine 
to  the  Northern  Ocean,  over  Gaul,  across  the  Channel 
into  Britain  —  westw'ard  still  it  moved.  Then  came  the 
discovery  of  America,  wdiich  reared  the  Cross  on  the 
shores  of  the  American  continent,  upon  which  Europe 
poured  her  choicest  subjects.  Efforts  w'ere  vainly  made 
to  begin  in  the  west,  and  come  eastward.  Only  the 
colonies  on  the  Atlantic  coast,  however,  succeedeil.  Pa- 


528 


STILL  WESTWARD. 


pidlj  Christianity  works  its  stream  westward,  across  the 
Allegheny  mountains  ;  rolls  its  vivifying  streams  athwart 
the  Mississippi  valley,  over  the  Rocky  Mountains,  to  the 
Pacific  coast.  There  another  powerful  kingdom  may  be 
established,  which  will  be  to  the  isles  in  the  Pacific,  to 
China,  Japan,  and  the  vast,  unexplored,  benighted  re¬ 
gions  beyond,  what  Great  Britain  has  been  to  America 
and  the  intervening  islands. 

Thus  has  the  course  of  Christianity  followed  the  course 
of  the  sun.  The  star  which  guided  the  Wise  Men  from 
the  East,  has  been  going  westward  ever  since,  like  the 
shekinah  of  the .  Israelites,  leading  the  armies  of  God 
over  Red  Seas,  and  sterile  deserts,  and  across  mountains, 
evermore  planting  the  flag  of  triumph  on  new  fields  of 
victory. 

“Westward  the  Star  of  Empire  takes  its  way: 

and  it  is,  geographically,  true,  that  Westward  the  Star 
of  Christianity  makes  its  way.  Westward,  through  many 
centuries,  it  has  been  carried  on  the  tide  of  commerce, 
by  the  waves  of  the  sea  and  the  storms  of  the  air,  from 
mountain  to  mountain,  from  sea  to  sea,  from  island  to 
island,  from  continent  to  continent.  And  westward  still 
it  moves,  with  mysterious  and  resistless  majesty  and 
power.  Not  backward,  but  onward,  it  must  go ;  until, 
like  the  natural  sun  in  his  course,  the  Sun  of  Righteous¬ 
ness  will  have  completed  the  circuit  of  the  earth  and 
shone  upon  every  zone  and  clime ;  when  the  sheet  of 
Peter’s  vision  will  become  a  sheet  of  grace  and  glory, 
whose  divine  and  infinite  folds  will  encircle  the  earth. 
Then  the  fulness  of  the  Gentiles  shall  be  brought  in, 
and  all  Israel  shall  be  saved.” 

All  the  missionary  work  which  has  thus  far  been  ac- 


ALEXANDRIA. 


520 


complished  in  tlie  East  is  simply  to  prepare  the  way  and 
make  straight  the  path  of  coming  final  events  —  coming 
not  from  Europe  or  America  directly,  but  coming  from 
the  East,  from  Empires  still  sitting  in  the  region  and 
shadow  of  death.  This  should  not  diminish  our  ardor  in 
the  cause  of  Foreign  Missions,  but  rather  increase  it. 
It  is  a  great  honor  even  to  labor  as  did  John  the  Baptist 
—  prepare  the  way  of  the  Lord.  Christians  sometimes 
become  discouraged  with  the  limited  success  of  the  Fo¬ 
reign  Missionary  work.  Hitherto  it  has  been  limited, 
and  the  final  and  complete  results  wdll  only  be  fully  seen 
and  reaped  at  the  sun-set  of  the  world’s  history,  when 
the  star  of  Bethlehem  shall  again  come  from  the  East, 
leading  the  countless  millions  of  her  idolatrous  subjects 
to  bow  around  the  Cross  on  Calvary.  Then,  instead  of 
Baal,  the  impersonation  of  the  natural  sun,  they  will 
W'orship  the  God  of  gods,  and  Light  of  lights,  and  ascribe 
to  the  King  eternal,  immortal,  invisible,  the  only  wise 
God,  honor  and  glory  for  ever  and  ever.  Amen.” 

The  houses  of  Joppa  were  already  lit  up,  its  hill-sidea 
gleaming  with  many  lights,  when  our  steamer  swaggered 
out  of  the  troubled  harbor.  The  illuminated  hill  rising 
up  from  the  sea,  reminded  me  of  Old  Edinburgh  after 
night,  as  seen  from  the  new  city,  where  the  steep  hill  is 
hung  with  thousands  of  lights  which  look  like  lines  of 
glimmering  stars  stretched  along  the  heavens.  We  passed 
in  sight  of  the  land  of  the  Philistines,  but  darkness  hid 
its  coast  from  our  vision.  At  six  the  next  morning  we 
reached  Alexandria.  Our  steamer  tarrying  two  days  and 
a  half  here,  we  had  an  opportunity  to  see  something  more 
of  the  city.  When  we  arrived  here  three  months  before, 
everything  appeared  singular  and  novel.  Now  its  streets 
45  2 1 


530 


MARSEILLES. 


and  customs  seem  as  natural  as  those  of  Philadelphia  or 
New  York. 

Homeward-bound  !  Yes,  westward  still  our  toiling 
steamer  works  its  way  over  the  troubled  sea.  We  touched 
at  Malta,  passed  along  the  coasts  of  Sicily  and  Sardinia. 
Black  clouds  hung  over  the  blue  Sardinian  hills,  with 
here  and  there  a  fissure  through  which  a  seam  of  brilliant 
sunlight  was  pouring  with  dazzling  effulgence.  Then  we 
coasted  along  the  island  of  Corsica,  and  finally,  after  a 
voyage  of  eleven  days,  reached  Marseilles,  on  a  pleasant 
Sabbath  morning.  A  considerable  time  elapsed  until  our 
steamer  had  worked  itself  through  the  crowded  harbor 
to  the  quay.  The  examination  of  baggage  by  the  custom¬ 
house  officers  detained  us  at  the  wharf  until  the  middle 
of  the  forenoon.  The  few  precious  relics  and  mementoes 
of  my  journey  were  happily  buried  in  an  old  camel  sack, 
which  they  deemed  it  useless  to  examine.  A  friend,  who 
was  less  fortunate,  brought  a  few  contraband  Damascus 
shawls,  for  which  he  paid  twelve  dollars  tribute.  The  city 
had  quite  a  week-day  appearance  for  the  Lord’s  day,  as 
all  French  cities  have.  But  few  stores  were  closed,  and 
the  streets  were  thronged  with  people  of  business  and 
pleasure. 

Thus  far  on  our  homeward  voyage  we  enjoyed  the  so¬ 
ciety  and  companionship  of  Mr.  L -  and  lady,  from 

Connecticut,  who  vainly  sought  a  restoration  of  his  health 
in  an  Eastern  clime  ;  and  Rev.  W.  Arthur  and  lady,  from 
England.  Mr.  Arthur  is  a  Wesleyan  minister,  and  a 
distinguished  writer — author  of  the  Tongue  of  Fire,  and 
of  Italy  in  Transition,  both  works  which  have  an  exten¬ 
sive  circulation  in  this  country.  In  all  my  pilgrimage  I 
met  few  men  in  whom  genius  and  a  meek  Christian  spirit 
were  so  beautifully  blended.  Our  paths  diverged  here. 


CONCLUSION. 


531 


obliging  us  to  part.  On  Monday  morning,  we  gathered 
in  an  “upper  room”  in  our  hotel,  spent  a  short  season 
in  singing  and  prayer,  commending  one  another  to  the 
Keeper  of  us  all,  and  beseeching  Him  to  guide  us  to  a 
happy  meeting  in  the  Jerusalem  above,  and  then  grasped 

hands,  and  sped  away,  Mr.  M - and  myself  towards 

Paris,  and  the  rest  tarried  for  a  season  in  the  south  of 
France.  ^ 

Thus  “strangers  and  pilgrims  on  the  earth”  meet  and 
part.  “  I  believe  in  the  Communion  of  saints,  the  Resur¬ 
rection  of  the  body,  and  the  Life  everlasting.” 

“Noch  in  den  letzten  Ziigen  werd  ich  lallon, 

Auf  Wiedersehn  im  ewgen  Vaterland.^' 


HEIGHTHS  AND  DEPTHS. 


Great  Hermon . 

Mount  Sinai,  (two  highest  peaks) . 

Jehel  Mousa  (traditional  peak  of  the  giving 

of  the  Law) . . 

Mount  Serhal . . . 

Convent  of  Sinai . . . 

Baalbec . 

Hebron . 

Mount  Gerizim . 

Mount  Ebal . . 

Bethlehem . 

Mount  of  Olives . 

Damascus. . . 

Jerusalem . 

Mount  Tabor . 

Shechem . . . 

Mount  Carmel . 

Nazareth . 

Lake  Merom . 

Lake  of  Genesaret  (Sea  of  Galilee) . 

Dead  Sea . 


10,000 

feet  high. 

9,300 

ii 

(( 

7,500 

a 

6,759 

a 

t( 

5,452 

tt 

3,700 

a 

tt 

2,800 

n 

tt 

2,500 

n 

tt 

2,500 

a 

tt 

2,500 

a 

tt 

2,398 

a 

tt 

2,300 

a 

tt 

2,200 

n 

tt 

1,800 

a 

It 

1,700 

n 

tt 

1,700 

a 

tt 

1,100 

it 

tt 

50 

tt 

ft 

652  below  the  sea. 
1,312 


(532) 


TEXTS  OF  SCErPTUEE  ILLUSTEATED 


Genesis. 

Genesis. 

Exodus. 

Chap. 

Verse. 

Page. 

Chap. 

Verse. 

Page. 

Chap. 

Verse. 

Page 

11 

31, 

489 

33 

4, 

117 

15 

27, 

104 

12 

6, 

355 

18-20, 

355 

16 

3, 

78 

8, 

849 

35 

330 

13, 

116 

11-16, 

34 

14,  16, 

350 

17 

118 

13 

300 

36 

8, 

184 

2,  3, 

120 

10, 

293 

37 

356 

11-16, 

126 

457 

24, 

347 

18 

7, 

118 

11, 

312 

25, 

161 

19 

134 

18, 

216 

41 

49 

145 

14 

813 

14, 

45 

4, 

407 

15, 

489 

42, 

176 

10,  14, 

135 

•18, 

351 

45, 

48 

23 

4, 

367 

15 

2, 

489 

60, 

49 

26 

181 

16 

7,  14, 

200 

48 

7, 

830 

32 

20,  ' 

136 

18 

12, 

6, 

165 

89 

49 

14,  15, 

431 

430 

Leviticus. 

1-7, 

426 

21, 

406 

11 

13, 

406 

19 

313 

29, 

172 

13 

333 

1, 

246 

31, 

211 

46,  46, 

333 

22 

26, 

312 

239 

Exodus. 

14 

19 

32, 

333 

45 

23 

211 

2 

16, 

148 

23 

69 

24 

493 

204 

3 

1, 

5, 

149 

138 

Numbers. 

18, 

356 

4 

27, 

118 

6 

5, 

45 

26 

203 

6 

7, 

66 

10 

36,  36, 

147 

12, 

454 

8 

16, 

66 

11 

4,  6, 

78 

33, 

202 

9 

31,  32, 

76 

12 

1. 

163 

28 

849 

10 

21. 

39 

10, 

834 

10, 

204 

11 

5, 

891 

13 

201 

29 

13, 

117 

12 

88, 

162 

23, 

216 

26, 

493 

89, 

98 

14 

201 

30 

36, 

280 

14 

98 

40-45 

201 

81 

40, 

206 

2, 

93 

20 

1, 

201 

32 

10, 

801 

15 

96 

17, 

198 

17, 

804 

22,  23, 

102 

23,  24, 

196 

45* 

(633) 

534 

TEXTS 

OF 

SCRIPTURE 

NUMBEfeS. 

Joshua. 

Chap. 

Verse. 

Page. 

Chap. 

Verse. 

20 

27, 

197 

.  3 

15, 

28, 

187 

4 

21 

4, 

179 

5 

5, 

120 

14-16, 

6, 

154 

6 

20, 

16, 

204 

29, 

22 

302 

8 

24 

303 

9 

33, 

32 

1-5, 

433 

10 

33 

10, 

109 

11 

35, 

159 

13,  14, 

34 

11, 

442 

12 

3, 

36 

19, 

163 

13 

27, 

30, 

Deuteronomy. 

17 

1, 

2 

5, 

5, 

179 

184 

'  19 

5-11, 

18, 

21, 

29, 

35, 

46, 

8, 

27, 

29, 

32, 

3 

9, 

467 

17, 

443 

25-27, 

304 

4 

26, 

27,  28, 
43, 

468 

357 

432 

20 

21 

8 

48, 

7-9, 

467 

470 

24 

11 

16, 

10,  11, 

154 

77 

Judges. 

11,  12, 

469 

1 

16. 

14, 

278 

31 

18 

10, 

425 

3 

Ol, 

13, 

31 

21 

17, 

181 

22 

10, 

258 

4 

24 

6, 

391 

6 

6 

25 

2. 

66 

19, 

33-35, 

27 

18, 

160 

24, 

304 

8 

21,  22, 
26 

28 

56 

29 

6, 

219 

Q 

32 

1-12, 

407 

V 

15 

33 

10, 

100 

11 

34, 

19, 

431 

13 

6, 

435 

15 

84 

303 

11, 

21, 

3, 

288 

16 

Joshua. 

18 

30,  31, 

2 

16-22, 

294 

21 

19, 

8 

301 

25, 

ILLUSTRATED. 


Ruth. 

Page. 

Chap. 

Verse. 

Page 

300 

2 

3, 

326 

294 

4 

11, 

246 

294 

289 

1 

Samuel. 

289 

1 

351 

289 

7 

5, 

348 

288 

10 

17, 

348 

357 

26, 

348 

314 

11 

1-11, 

428 

461 

15, 

294 

348 

12 

17, 

279 

442 

13 

21, 

332 

442 

18 

6,  7, 

111 

433 

21 

334 

433 

22 

1,  2, 

329 

431 

23 

207 

430 

24 

2, 

314 

371 

25 

207 

515 

26 

7, 

178 

443 

459 

520 

28 

425 

432 

24, 

427 

432 

29 

1, 

424 

371 

30 

17,  , 

214 

356 

31 

383 

2 

Samuel, 

288 

1 

19-27, 

428 

402 

23, 

406 

288 

4 

12, 

210 

332 

6 

344 

429 

247 

422 

7, 

268 

427 

23,  24, 

331 

423 

6 

14, 

31 

423 

7 

326 

352 

8 

6, 

489 

358 

8, 

509 

600 

15 

80, 

267 

111 

16 

267 

45 

9, 

65 

285 

17 

805 

217 

17, 

259 

391 

19 

8, 

246 

465 

15-40, 

294 

465 

21 

6, 

348 

361 

12-16, 

428 

472 

23 

314 

V 


535 


TEXTS  OF  SCRIPTURE  ILLUSTRATED. 


2  Samuel. 

2  Kings. 

Psalms. 

Chap 

Verse. 

Page. 

Chap. 

Verse. 

Page. 

Chap.  Verse. 

Page. 

23 

4, 

208 

9 

30, 

417 

23 

4, 

256 

15, 

326 

14 

7, 

190 

42 

1, 

405 

28, 

489 

179 

1  Kings. 

18 

364 

46 

4, 

240 

1 

9, 

259 

17, 

261 

48 

2, 

268 

2 

16, 

258 

20 

20, 

251 

2,  3, 

250 

3 

4-14, 

348 

23 

10, 

260 

12,  13, 

247 

4 

33, 

154 

15,  16, 

350 

57 

329 

500 

59 

6, 

55 

5 

500 

1 

Chronicles. 

65 

12,  18, 

210 

6, 

515 

10 

12, 

428 

68 

15,  16, 

343 

6 

7, 

253 

12 

40, 

431 

69 

12, 

246 

7 

2, 

495 

21 

241 

72 

6, 

208 

9 

18, 

495 

79 

1, 

251 

27, 

515 

2 

Chronicles. 

87 

1, 

343 

10 

27, 

290 

2 

16, 

520 

rr 
•  , 

843 

11 

7, 

262 

12 

4, 

825 

89 

12, 

435 

24, 

489 

18 

9, 

246 

92 

12, 

59 

43, 

258 

26 

10, 

398 

103 

5, 

405 

12 

28, 

137 

20, 

334 

16 

200 

350 

32 

30, 

251 

104 

6-25, 

505 

16 

24, 

363 

35 

383 

16, 

500 

17 

515 

430 

18, 

314 

6,  6, 

287 

Ezra. 

107 

23-30, 

523 

18 

13-40, 

395 

3 

7, 

520 

82, 

105 

40, 

396 

108 

10, 

191 

46, 

397 

Nehemiah. 

119 

176, 

281 

19 

149 

2 

14, 

257 

120 

4, 

108 

4, 

108 

3 

15, 

257 

121 

343 

9, 

130 

8 

15, 

277 

6, 

142 

•15,  16, 

404 

9 

38, 

175 

469 

19, 

320 

122 

343 

19-21, 

378 

Esther. 

3, 

262 

20 

23, 

365 

3 

12, 

175 

7, 

250 

21 

1, 

375 

125 

2, 

262 

424 

Job. 

133 

3, 

468 

22 

48, 

158 

5 

10, 

469 

142 

329 

6 

15-18, 

398 

149 

112 

2  Kings. 

9 

7,  8, 

156 

150 

112 

1 

8, 

396 

39 

10, 

462 

9, 

404 

j.  vj 

19-25^ 

368 

Proverbs. 

8 

11, 

174 

27-30, 

407 

20 

4, 

320 

4 

379 

40 

17-23, 

462 

26 

1, 

279 

8-10, 

377 

41 

24, 

391 

30 

19, 

406 

6 

7, 

333 

31 

19, 

815 

12, 

490 

Psalms. 

27, 

334 

8 

218 

Ecclesiastes. 

6 

29, 

365 

22 

12, 

432 

2 

5,  6, 

217 

8 

13, 

55 

23 

2, 

119 

11 

1, 

74 

636  TEXTS  OF  SCRIPTURE  ILLUSTRATED 


Ecclesiastes. 

Isaiah. 

Chap. 

Verse. 

Page. 

Chap. 

Verse. 

Page. 

11 

4, 

320 

35 

2, 

500 

12 

4, 

390 

6,  7, 

121 

6, 

76 

10, 

348 

11, 

332 

36 

2, 

261 

38 

14, 

603 

Song 

OF  Solomon. 

40 

3, 

87 

8,  9, 

405 

16, 

600 

11-13, 

277 

31, 

407 

17, 

405 

41 

18, 

121 

3 

5, 

406 

47 

2, 

391 

6, 

208 

53 

5, 

66 

4 

8, 

468 

7, 

281 

12, 

217 

60 

9-15, 

473 

15, 

500 

62 

6, 

245 

5 

2, 

264 

10, 

87 

7 

4, 

494 

64 

9-11, 

339 

7, 

59' 

65 

6, 

142 

8 

11, 

495 

Jeremiah. 

Isaiah. 

2 

13, 

347 

1 

6, 

333 

5 

24, 

278 

6,  7, 

414 

7 

31, 

260 

2 

343 

8 

7, 

206 

4, 

320 

503 

13, 

500 

10 

5, 

69 

4 

6, 

177 

14 

5, 

405 

7 

3, 

261 

15 

19, 

432 

8, 

490 

25 

10, 

390 

8 

4, 

490 

31 

21, 

152 

9 

1, 

445 

37 

21, 

478 

10, 

290 

38 

252 

10 

9, 

490 

6, 

847 

33, 

260 

41 

17, 

327 

34, 

500 

46 

18, 

399 

12 

3, 

249 

19-26, 

60 

14 

8, 

500 

49 

16, 

191 

16 

1, 

190 

19, 

296 

19 

5,  6, 

78 

8, 

77 

Lamentations. 

18,  19, 

48 

2 

340 

25, 

81 

15, 

341 

21 

11, 

182 

4 

1, 

251 

22 

9, 

261 

5 

340 

28 

17, 

296 

16, 

112 

82 

2, 

203 

18, 

285 

S3 

9, 

500 

84 

184 

Ezekiel. 

8f 

1, 

60 

6 

5, 

471 

2, 

398 

9 

175 

Ezekiel. 

Chap. 

Verse. 

Page. 

23 

40, 

417 

26 

15, 

615 

27 

5, 

468 

500 

i 

18, 

490 

29 

3, 

77 

14,  15, 

66 

15, 

80 

30 

13, 

80 

60 

32 

18, 

80 

37 

261 

39 

00 

432 

47 

240 

16, 

508 

Daniel. 

6 

10, 

42 

Hosea. 

6 

1, 

435 

8 

1, 

407 

11 

1, 

526 

14 

7, 

500 

Joel. 

2 

23, 

278 

3 

10, 

321 

Amos. 

1 

1, 

329 

2, 

398 

4 

1, 

432 

6 

1, 

366 

7 

4, 

290 

15, 

329 

8 

11, 

329 

9 

'  2,8, 

399 

14,  15, 

329 

Micah. 

1 

6, 

366 

3 

12, 

258 

4 

3, 

320 

5 

2, 

325 

6 

1,  2, 

343 

7 

14, 

398 

432 

TEXTS  OF  SCRIPTURE  ILLUSTRATED.  537 


Zechabiah. 

Matthew. 

Luke. 

Chap. 

V  erse. 

Page. 

Chap. 

Verse. 

Page. 

Chap. 

Verse. 

Page 

13 

1, 

240 

15 

32-38, 

452 

4 

27, 

367 

14 

256 

16 

433 

28,  29, 

388 

8, 

241 

467 

5 

1-11, 

446 

17 

433 

6 

1 

456 

Matthew. 

14-27, 

446 

17-49, 

439 

2 

15, 

526 

18 

6, 

391 

88, 

142 

17,  18, 

331 

21 

269 

213 

23, 

214 

1, 

277 

7 

39, 

275 

3 

305 

2, 

223 

8 

449 

1-4, 

283 

33, 

^  216 

27, 

452 

13, 

215 

23 

27, 

212 

9 

433 

4 

1, 

295 

24 

2,  32, 

244 

10 

4, 

117 

5,  6, 

255 

20, 

278 

30, 

284 

12,  13, 

444 

41, 

390 

12 

54, 

279 

13, 

45S 

25 

32,  33, 

281 

55, 

279 

445 

26 

39-49, 

266 

13 

4, 

257 

15, 

444 

27 

60, 

347 

8, 

35C 

445 

14 

6, 

347 

18-22, 

445 

Mark. 

15 

4, 

280 

23, 

439 

1 

23, 

492 

17 

333 

24, 

444 

37 

18 

288 

25, 

444 

2 

6, 

.445 

289 

6 

439 

452 

19 

269 

14, 

392 

tJ 

oo 

453 

288 

458 

6 

33, 

450 

41, 

269 

6 

439 

55 

445 

21 

37, 

264 

26, 

874 

7 

‘?4 

1  74 

23 

39-44, 

222 

28,  29, 

352 

1 

24I3O, 

516 

24 

47, 

524 

30, 

200 

8 

467 

50, 

271 

7 

13,  14, 

439 

248 

11 

1-9, 

452 

350 

John. 

• 

26,  27, 

100 

23, 

277 

1 

17, 

274 

8 

20, 

285 

15 

40, 

452 

44, 

445 

374 

16 

3, 

347 

2 

1, 

392 

28,  34. 

451 

4 

354 

9 

1, 

453 

4-9, 

289 

456 

Luke. 

13,  14, 

121 

9, 

445 

1 

26, 

387 

21,  23, 

526 

10 

5,  6, 

526 

2 

322 

26, 

392 

39, 

464 

292 

5 

2, 

262 

42, 

275 

7, 

328 

6 

451 

11 

2,  3, 

450 

24, 

328 

51, 

325 

7, 

298 

341 

66,  67, 

466 

20, 

453 

32, 

498 

7 

1, 

467 

20-24, 

442 

39, 

415 

37, 

241 

13 

53-56, 

388 

44, 

349 

10 

1, 

466 

14 

450 

51,  52, 

415 

280 

84, 

443 

3 

16, 

93 

4.  5,  27, 

280 

16 

14, 

347 

4 

26, 

515 

40, 

306 

638  TEXTS  OF  SCRIPTURE 


ILLUSTRATED. 


Chap. 

John. 

Verse. 

Page. 

11 

276 

18, 

274 

31, 

272 

13 

26, 

90 

18 

2, 

264 

22, 

107 

19 

23, 

142 

41, 

267 

21 

448 

2, 

392 

1 

Acts. 

12, 

271 

19, 

259 

2 

9,  10, 

249 

7 

15,  16, 

356« 

22, 

49 

8 

40, 

136 

518 

9 

5, 

332 

11, 

477 

17, 

489 

29,  30 

517 

38-41, 

520 

10 

517 

Chap. 

Acts. 

Verse. 

Page. 

10 

527 

6, 

520 

12 

2, 

519 

22,  23, 

518 

18 

18, 

45 

24, 

30 

21 

518 

4,  5, 

516 

7, 

402 

24 

24,  25, 

517 

26 

518 

27 

22 

3, 

516 

28 

3, 

16 

12, 

16 

2 

Corinthians. 

5 

1, 

92 

6 

14, 

258 

11 

24, 

66 

1 

Galatians. 

17, 

149 

4 

24, 

273 

Ephesians. 

Chap.  Verse. 

Page 

5  27, 

273 

Hebrews. 


,  t 

1-4, 

351 

12 

18. 

24 

13 

12, 

261 

20,  21, 

242 

James. 

3 

4,  5, 

523 

1  Peter. 

2 

25, 

281 

2  Peter. 

1 

18, 

433 

Revelations. 

5 

281 

7 

9, 

59 

18 

22, 

890 

19 

3, 

311 

21 

8, 

807 

22 

1, 

74 

11-15, 

246 

INDEX 


Aaron’s  Grave,  197. 

Arana  and  Pharpar,  rivers  of 
Damascus,  489. 

Abraham’s  oak  at  Hebron,  216. 

Absalom’s  tomb  at  Jerusalem,  256. 

Aceldama,  or  Potter’s  field  at  Je¬ 
rusalem,  259. 

Acre,  City  of,  402. 

Addllum  (cave),  329. 

^PItna,  Mount,  16. 

Akaba  (gulf),  155,  159, 

Alexandria,  27;  Cleopatra’s  Nee¬ 
dle,  29. 

Amalek,  106,  160. 

A  MALE  KITE  army,  421. 

Apollos’  birthplace,  30. 

Arab  encampment  at  Merom,463. 

Baalbec,  495 ;  Ruined  temples, 
496. 

Balaam  on  Moab,  302. 

Baptism  of  John  at  the  Jordan, 
299. 

Bashan’s  hills.  432. 

Bathing  in  the  East,  485, 

Bedouin  drama,  109. 

Bedouins  parting  from  us,  214. 

Bedouins  of  Sinai,  141,  150,  161. 

Beersheba,  200. 

Beirout,  first  view,  504 ;  Mis¬ 
sionaries,  508;  Parting  with 
Ahmed  and  his  two  servants, 
51 1 ;  Departure,  51 4. 

Beisan,  or  Beth-shan,  428. 

Bethel,  349;  Abraham  and  Lot, 
301. 

Bethany,  274. 

Bethlehem,  217,  321,  325. 


Bethsaida,  442. 

Birds  of  the  air,  374. 

Brooks  and  streams  in  Palestine, 
397. 

Buffaloes  in  Egypt,  32  ;  in  Pal¬ 
estine,  462. 

Burning  bush  at  Mount  Sinai, 
138. 

Cairo,  37 ;  Old  Cairo,  52. 

Caipha,  899. 

Calvary,  235. 

Camel,  The,  156,  165,  176. 

Capernaum,  442,  452. 

Carmel  (Mount),  207. 

Catacombs  at  Malta,  21 ;  in  the 
desert,  57. 

Caves  of  Engeddi,  314. 

Cedars  of  Lebanon,  499. 

Cesarea  Philippi,  464,  466. 

Cesarea  (on  the  Mediterranean), 
517. 

Cherith  (brook),  287. 

Chorazin,  442. 

Christ’s  birthplace,  322;  Christ 
at  Nazareth,  387 ;  Christ  at  the 
well  of  Jacob,  354,  356;  Christ’s 
triumphal  entry  into  Jerusalem, 
267  ;  Christ’s  ascension,  270. 

Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre, 
223. 

Clothing  in  the  desert,  220. 

Coat  of  Christ,  without  seam, 
143. 

Cgcle-Syria,  501. 

Coffee  houses  in  the  East,  485. 

Convent  of  Sinai,  128,  139. 

'  Convent  of  Rlltah,  331. 

(  539) 


540 


INDEX. 


Convent  of  Mar  Saba,  315. 

Convent  of  Mount  Carmel,  400. 

Convents,  serving  as  places  of 
entertainment,  383,  403. 

Cooking,  killing,  and  baking  in 
the  East,  426. 

Cornelius  at  Cesarea,  517. 

Customs  of  the  East,  492. 

Damascus,  first  view  of,  476; 
Straight  street,  477;  Inns,  478; 
Domestic  life,  479  ;  Hospitality, 
480;  Mosques  and  Mohamme¬ 
dans,  481 ;  Ramadan  (fasting 
season),  483 ;  Social  gathering, 
484;  History  of  Damascus,  489; 
Last  view,  494. 

Dan,  465. 

Dancing  in  the  East,  111. 

David’s  tomb,  257. 

Dead  of  Sinai,  138. 

Dead  Sea,  309. 

Demoniacs,  492. 

Dervishes  (dancing  Moslems),  44. 

Dogs,  40,  55,  375. 

Donkeys  (asses),  36. 

Donkey  boys,  35. 

Druses  of  Syria,  510. 

Eagles,  406. 

Easter  in  Jerusalem,  242. 

Ebal  and  Gerizim  (curses  and 

.  blessings  of),  357. 

Edom,  184. 

Egypt,  Brick  making,  56 ;  Bond¬ 
age,  79;  Egg  ovens,  72;  Char¬ 
acter  of  Egyptians,  64. 

Elljah’s  cave  on  Mount  Sinai, 
130;  Elijah  on  Carmel,  394, 
404 ;  Elijah  and  Elisha,  305 ; 
Elijah  fed  by  the  ravens,  287. 

Elim,  104. 

Elisha  ploughing,  320. 

Elisha  at  Shunem,  327 ;  Elisha 
on  Carmel,  404;  Elisha’s  spring, 
291. 

Endor,  421. 

En-Rogel,  259. 

Engeddi,  314. 

Eshcol,  brook  and  grapes,  215. 

Ezion  Geber,  158. 


Farming  in  Palestine,  »19,  383. 
Farming  Bedouins,  320. 

Feiran,  Wady,  122. 

Fiery  serpents,  154. 

Fig  trees,  277,  350. 

Fishes  and  fishermen  at  the  Sea 
of  Galilee,  445. 

Flying  fishes  at  Akaba,  173. 
Foxes  in  Palestine,  285. 
Franciscan  procession  in  the 
Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre, 
226. 

Galilee,  Sea  of,  441,  444. 
Gazelle  (hart,  hind,  or  roe),  179, 
405;  Meat  of  the  Gazelle,  198. 
Gates  of  cities,  245. 

Gehenna  or  Hinnom,  260. 
Gethsemane,  265,  345. 

Gibea  of  Saul,  348. 

Gibeon,  348. 

Goad  (ox-goad),  332. 

Golden  calf,  136. 

Golden  gate  at  Jerusalem,  263. 
Golden  well,  251. 

Good  Friday  in  Jerusalem,  22. 
Good  Samaritan,  Parable  of,  284. 
Governor  of  Akaba,  157. 

Grave  of  an  American  at  Akaba, 
171. 

..A 

Hazeroth,  153. 

Heat  and  cold,  206. 

Hebrews  crossing  the  Jordan, 
301. 

Hebron,  210. 

Heliopolis  (On),  47. 

History  on  Egyptian  tombs,  68. 
Holy  Cities  of  the  Jews,  457. 
Holy  fire  on  the  Greek  Easter, 
230. 

Holy  Sepulchre,  224,  236. 
Homeward  bound,  530. 

Hor,  Mount,  182,  186. 

Hot  Springs  at  the  Sea  of  Gali¬ 
lee,  458. 

Hotels  in  Cairo,  34,  52  ;  in  Pal¬ 
estine,  402. 

Hussein,  Sheikh,  181. 

Hyssop,  154. 


INDEX 


641 


ISSACHAB,  430. 

Jabesh-Gilead,  428. 

Jabin,  King  of  Canaan^  Tfarring 
with  the  Jews,  428. 

Jacob  blessing  his  sons,  431. 

Jehoshaphat,  valley  of,  255. 

Jenin  (En-gannim),  371. 

Jeremiah’s  cave,  252, 

Jericho,  288,  292,  295. 

Jerusalem,  261;  Approach  to, 
218;  Ancient  Jerusalem,  250; 
Jews  at  Jerusalem,  337 ;  Popu¬ 
lation,  336,  341 ;  Mail  arrange¬ 
ments,  221 ;  Elevated  situation, 
the  high-place  of  Palestine,  342; 
History  of  Jerusalem,  343. 

Jews  in  the  East,  472. 

Jewish  grave-yard,  256. 

Jezreel,  plain  of,  382 ;  city  of 
Jezreel,  375. 

Jonah  at  Joppa,  521. 

John  the  Baptist,  283 ;  at  the 

Jordan,  305. 

Joppa,  519;  Harbor  of  Joppa, 
521 ;  House  of  Simon  the  tan¬ 
ner,  520. 

Jordan,  297,  300;  the  river  of 
death,  307. 

Joseph’s  tomb,  356. 

Joseph  and  Mary  at  Bethlehem, 
327. 

Joshua  at  Jericho,  288,  293. 

Josiah’s  battle  and  death,  429. 

Jotham’s  parable  onGerizim,  358. 

Kedron,  the  brook,  241. 

King’s  pool,  257. 

Kishon,  the  brook,  405,  394. 

Kissing  salutations,  117. 

Lares  on  the  Lebanon,  604. 

Law  of  Moses  concerning  the  lep¬ 
rosy,  333. 

Lebanon,  Anti,  474. 

Lebanon,  Mount,  603. 

Lebonah,  351. 

Lepers  in  Jerusalem,  332. 

Lilies  of  the  field,  362. 

Living  fountain  under  the  temple 
in  Jerusalem,  240. 

46 


Locusts,  used  for  food,  283. 
Lydda,  520. 

Machpelah,  the  field  of,  211. 
Mahanaim,  304. 

Malta,  17. 

Maon,  207. 

Marah,  102 

Maronites  in  Syria,  509. 

Mary’s  home,  385. 
Mediterranean,  25. 

Memphis  (Noph  or  No),  69. 
Merom,  Lake,  460. 

Messina,  15. 

Midnight  song,  116. 

Mill,  Women  grinding  on  a,  390- 
Mill  stones,  391. 

Missionaries  at  Cairo,  35. 
Missionary  at  Nazareth,  410. 
Mizpeh,  348. 

Moab,  Mountains  of,  205. 
Mohammedan  worship,  43. 
Mokatteb,  Wady,  113. 

Monks  in  the  East,  322,  403. 
Moses  on  Pisgah,  304. 

Moslem  pilgrims  to  Mecca,  362. 
Mosques,  41. 

Mosque  of  Omar,  238. 

Mount  of  Beatitudes,  437. 
Mount  Carmel,  394,  398. 

Mount  Zion,  247,  258,  268. 
Muezzin  (herald),  42,  244. 
Mukhna,  plain  of,  353. 
Murmuring,  the,  118. 

Music,  Egyptian,  60. 

Nablous,  358,  361. 

Nain,  421. 

Naples,  Bay  of,  14. 

Nazareth,  384,  408,  414. 

Nile,  the,  60,  73. 

Night  in  Egypt,  39. 

Old  and  new  bottles,  466. 
Obigen  at  Cesarea,  617 ;  buried 
at  Tyre,  616. 

Olivet,  242,  263,  267,  271. 
Ornan’s  threshing  floor,  241. 

Our  caravan  in  the  desert,  178. 

Palestine,  description  of  by  a 
missionary,  411. 


542 


INDEX 


Palm  tree,  The,  59. 

Parable  op  the  sower,  454;  of 
the  wheat  and  tares,  454 ;  of 
the  mustard  seed,  455. 

Paul  and  Ananias  at  Damascus, 
489;  Paul  at  Cesarea,  517;  at 
Tyre  and  Sidon,  516;  his  ship¬ 
wreck  at  Malta,  21 ;  his  journey 
to  Rome,  22. 

Peter  preaching  at  Cesarea,  518. 
Petra,  187. 

Pilgrims  to  Sinai,  148. 

Pilgrims  at  Jerusalem,  248,  285. 
Pilgrims  at  the  Jordan,  296. 
Pillar  of  Salt,  312. 

Pinnacle  of  the  temple,  255. 
PlSGAII,  303. 

Pits  or  cisterns  of  Palestine,  347. 
Place  of  wailing  in  Jerusalem, 
338. 

Plagues  op  Pharaoh,  56,  75,  80.  ' 
Ploughshares  and  Pruning-^ 
HOOKS,  320. 

Pompey’s  Pillar,  29. 

Pool  of  Hezekiah,  251. 

Pool  of  Siloam,  257. 

Pool  (Upper)  of  Gihon,  261. 

Pool  (Lower)  of  Gihon,  261. 

Pool  op  Bethesda,  262. 

Pyramids  of  Egypt,  32,  58,  63. 

Quails  in  the  desert,  116. 
Quarantine,  208. 

Rachel’s  grave,  330. 

Raiment  of  camel’s  hair,  283. 
Rama,  331. 

Ramadan,  483. 

Raschid,  Sheikh,  167,  182. 

Reed  (cane)  fields  at  the  Jor¬ 
dan,  298. 

Rephidim,  125. 

Retrospect  from  Dan  to  Beer- 
sheba,  468. 

Riiegium,  16. 

Roads  in  Judea,  217. 

Road  from  Jerusalem  to  Jericho, 
284. 

Robbers  of  Palestine,  422. 

Robbers  at  the  Dead  Sea,  400. 
Rock  formations,  152. 


Rock  smitten,  135. 

Ruth  and  Naomi,  326. 

Sabbath  rest,  34,  199. 

Salem,  Plain  of,  351. 

Samaria,  City  and  hill  of,  363. 
Samaritan  altar  on  Mount  Gen* 
zim,  360. 

Samaritan  congregation  in  Na 
blous,  359. 

Sand  rivers  in  the  desert,  152. 
Saul’s  battle  at  Jezreel,  424 
Saul  at  Endor,  425. 

Scribes  (writers),  175. 

SCYLLA  AND  ChARYBDIS,  14. 

Sea  of  Galilee,  439. 

Sealing  contracts,  175. 

Sea  Sickness,  522. 

Seir,  Mount,  182. 

Serbal,  Mount,  122. 

Sermon  on  the  Mount,  439. 
Shechem,  355. 

Shepherds  and  their  flocks,  280. 
Ship  in  a  storm,  522. 

Shunem,  376. 

Shittim  trees,  148. 

Shoobra,  47. 

Silence  of  Sinai,  146. 

Sinai,  Mount,  128,  144. 

Sinai  and  Zion,  273. 

Sin,  Wilderness  of,  109. 

Sirocco,  200. 

SiSERA,  429. 

Skylarks,  374,  504. 

Smoking  at  Damascus,  480. 
Sodom  and  Gomorrah,  311,  319. 
Solomon’s  pools  and  gardens,  216 
Spinning  by  Bedouin  women,  314 
Spring  in  Palestine,  277. 

St.  Jerome  at  Bethlehem,  324. 
Storks,  205. 

Storm  in  the  desert,  176,  205. 
Straight  gate  and  narrow  way, 
248. 

Stromboli,  Volcano  of,  J4. 
Swallows,  205. 

Sycamore  tree,  48,  289. 
Syracuse,  16. 

Syrian  massacres,  498. 


Tabor,  Mount,  428,  433. 


INDEX 


543 


Tekoah,  329. 

Temple  of  ancient  Jerusalem,  249. 
Tents  on  house-tops,  399. 

Tombs  of  the  Kings,  346, 
Transfiguration,  Mount  of,  346. 
Tyre  and  Sidon,  514. 

Valley  of  Rephaim,  331. 

Virgin,  Fountain  of  the,  at  Naza¬ 
reth,  416. 

Vault  of  Siloam,  341. 

Wadys  are  the  highways  of  Sinai, 
104. 

Walls  of  Jerusalem,  245. 
Washing  the  hands  before  and 
after  eating,  173. 

Well  of  Jacob,  354,  361. 

Wells  of  Beershbba,  202. 


Westward  course  of  Christianity, 
524. 

Whited  sepulchres,  212. 

Wild  honey,  284. 

Wilderness  of  Judea,  286. 
Winter  in  Palestine,  277. 

Witch  of  Endor,  425. 

Woman  in  Egypt,  51. 

Woman  among  the  Bedouins,  180. 
Woman  among  the  Mohammedans, 
483. 

Woman  at  Nazareth,  416. 
Writings  on  the  rocks,  113. 

Zacheus,  289. 

Zarephath,  or  Sarepta,  and  the 
widow’s  cruse  of  oil,  515. 

ZiN,  Wilderness  of  'Kadesh),  200 
ZiPH,  207. 


7HB  END. 


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